


Ripples

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess), Shatterpath



Series: Ripples [1]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, E.R., Facts of Life, The Division (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-31
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From here, we pick up where Rapids left off.</p><p>After far too long apart, the Cougar is reunited with the Coyote and new beginnings abound!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Viva Las Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG-13, beware of warm fuzzies.
> 
> Pairings: Dace/Catherine & Sara, revisited.
> 
> General Disclaimer: This series contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: “CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of Jorja Fox or Marg Helgenberger.
> 
> Disclaimer: “The Division,” All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. .  This site is in no way affiliated with "The Division", Lifetime Television, or any representatives of Bonnie Bedelia, Nancy McKeon, Lisa Vidal, or Tracey Needham. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
> 
> Disclaimer: “The X-Files,” Created by Chris Carter, produced by 20th Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. 
> 
> Disclaimers: “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit”, the characters, and situations depicted are respectively the property of Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, and NBC. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with “Law & Order: SVU,” NBC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Spoilers: Nothing specific, except for the several characters from earlier sections of Light, Water and Muses, and aspects of their characters and backgrounds were established there.
> 
> Note from the author: I like my alternate version of reality better, but you should now that by now, hmm? This is more of epilogue of Rapids, winding down what we learned there.

 ++ Sara ++

 

(1-31-02)

 

God, I had so much to do, it was like fighting quicksand. We were all freaked out over what had happened to Catherine and that lunatic that tried to throw us off the trail of the murder he had committed. And the woman dropping a dismembered human finger in my glass of ice while I was having lunch in a diner with a friend? Not a clue I was going to forget any time soon. Couple all that with our workload lately being enough to make any CSI shudder, and I was wiped out.

 

My complete inability to sleep beyond skittish catnaps only aggravated my situation. I couldn’t help it, haunted by the blood and thunder in my memories.

 

All my mixed feelings about Chicago and everything that had happened there were holed up in a little box marked ‘deal with when you have time’. Yeah right, like that would happen anytime soon. That Pandora’s box scared the hell out of me, especially since I had little control over memories and feelings when I was exhausted or in the mindscape of dreams and nightmares. The lid was getting pretty shaky…

 

Nick smiled in sympathy at me, his normally bright eyes as dull and bloodshot as mine felt. “You holdin’ up?”

 

“Hmmm,” I hummed noncommittically and cracked my neck like a gunshot. Nick winced and I felt light-headed. “As well as to be expected. Relieved as hell that Cath’s on her way back in, safe and sound.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” 

 

Then someone suddenly called my name and there was a brief endless moment of unreality.

 

They were out of context. Seriously out of context. There was a certain kind of person I was used to seeing in this building, and they were not it. One, two, three heartbeats passed before I rationalized exactly who was standing there in the hallway. Then the joy rushed up my spine as I dropped my file in shock.

 

Squealing almost incoherently in delight, I rushed towards my pals, skittering to a halt as I noted the cast and sling. I remembered the blood and terror all too clearly, and found myself staring in horror at her damaged flesh. A small sound made me look up, my eyes fluttering over the shocking white of the tiny butterfly stitches over the angry red line of the head wound and the barely-faded rainbow of the violent contusions. “Oh… oh…” was all I could whimper, utterly overwhelmed by her.

 

I nearly unraveled at the gentle touch of her fingers on my lips and her sweet, benign smile. “I made promises to both you and Catherine,” she purred softly and I shivered. “So here I am. I’ve missed you, Basker, come here.”

 

Some part of me knew that Nick was standing not twenty feet away, undoubtedly looking totally confused. The larger part of me didn’t care, and wrapped my arms around Dace’s waist, feeling the pounds the last two and half weeks had taken off her already slender frame. The other’s understanding chuckles echoed in my ears as Dace’s mouth covered mine and I was lost again.

 

++ Dace ++

 

She tasted as good as I remembered, and was soft and pliable against me. It gave me heart for the changes I had decided on. Leaving the warm haven of Sara’s eager mouth, I rubbed noses with her. “I’m not going away again, I promise. Go say hello to the others.”

 

Confused, but willing, Sara pecked me almost shyly and went to hug Jinny, who startled at this strange woman, making the others chuckle. There were more hugs as Monica and Liv sandwiched the giggling Sara between them. That left me to meet the utterly flabbergasted gaze of the man Sara had been walking with and grin at him. It succeeded in pulling his attention away from Sara and he slowly approached.

 

Sara’s voice pulled my attention back, her distress as clear to me as her distinctive scent. “Oh... oh god, Dace, she’s not here.”

 

Not here? It was like a vacuum, as my senses threatened to short-circuit along with my rollercoastering emotions. Olivia grabbed my wrist in a bruising grip while Jinny took my upper arm. One or the other crooned soothingly to help anchor me.

 

Only this time I had a terrified feeling that it wouldn’t be enough.

 

“She was pulled into this really twisted case,” Sara’s distraught voice helped tie me to human reality, not the animal panic in my head. “And the detectives are with her now. We have no clue when she’ll be back.” Every sound was like thunder and gun shots, the smells of the surrounding labs as thick as a forest fire. I was going to go mad!

 

There were hands all over me, rasping my clothes against my skin like burning sandpaper. I was ready to scream from the overstimulation, the cougar shrieking in protest to my human weakness, the way she always did. Then I heard the faint wisp of voice and stillness settled instantly. Reality slowed to a bare crawl, my heart loud and impossibly slow in my ears. Every heightened sense I had inherited from my unusual genes zeroed in on the nearby bend of hallway. No one could even so much as react to my animal speed as I ducked away from the hands and slinked around their lumbering bodies to claim what was mine.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

I’d rattled off everything I could remember about (perp) and the crime he had committed. No one needed to tell me how lucky I was that I hadn’t been added to the list. Twice in one month I’d avoided becoming a statistic to a sociopath. Catherine Willows, you’re getting into a very strange rut. Ruthlessly wrestling my feelings about Snake-Eyes and the cougar woman who sang harmony with my wounded and bleeding soul, I trudged along blindly beside Warrick. I didn’t even need to see his face to know that he was burning with worry for me, that all of them had been burning with worry since I had arrived back in Las Vegas.

 

Nothing was right anymore, like someone had fiddled with the brightness and color contrast of my internal television. Or I had gone to black and white. I was cripplingly incomplete and the world around me felt that way too.

 

My mind raced with exhaustion, and wondering how Lindsey was doing, and when Gris would want me back on the clock, and please let it not be today, and would the crew even be here this time of day, and hoping that my sister had remembered to pick up my mail...

 

And then I heard it. The heavy, quick tread of boots I’d never forget, the distinctive wooden thunk of the thick oak heels. It wasn’t just the familiar pace of the walk, but the subtle jingle of the chrome chains wrapped around arch and ankle. My heart rate blasted into the stratosphere even as the banal part of my brain told me I was being silly and to quit hallucinating. It had been two and half weeks and forever since I’d heard that sound, felt her touch on my skin, the push and pull of her strong personality. It was a fever dream, the tickle of boot heels across my eardrums. Warrick was trying to get my attention, poking me in the arm. “Hey, you okay?”

 

“Yeah, sorry. I thought I’d heard something.”

 

“Right,” he agreed tolerantly and continued on his ramble about... about whatever it was that he was rambling about. I was usually a good listener, but reality was beginning to tilt around me like a funhouse ride. Something howled, shattering my skull with the intensity, gold eyes flashing in the dark, the piercing call of a hungry cougar loud in my soul. 

 

This couldn’t be happening. The scientist in me was freaking out. The faint sounds of those boot chains and the heavy stride was an exhaustion-induced hallucination. 

 

Then a figure stumbled ungracefully around the corner. 

 

She looked even more magnificent than I remembered. The pale hair was shorn to her skull on the sides and the sling and foul bruising glaringly obvious even from here, her strong body wrapped in jeans, a snug white undershirt with a thin blue dress shirt hanging loosely around her torso.

 

And those boots.

 

++ Nick Stokes ++

 

The feral look on the Amazon’s face was something I would never forget. It was raw and animalistic. Not pissed off or in the throes of ecstasy kind of animalistic. More like coming around a corner in the mountains to find yourself face-to-face with a really hungry cougar. I actually heard the woman make a feline sound of desperation that made every hair on my body stand perfectly on end.

 

It was thrilling and terrifying.

 

“Ya think maybe Dace is feeling a little anxious?” The sexy brunette with the short hair smirked and the other three chuckled.

 

Wait, that was the cop that Catherine and Sara had been talking about so adoringly about for the last couple weeks? For a moment I gawked at the strange women, answered with only a quartet of well-practiced smirks. Sara was worried and disoriented as she stared off down the hall. When I turned to follow her gaze, the blonde woman was just stumbling ungracefully to a halt at the bend in the hall. A goofy, loving grin radiated out like desert sunshine as she straightened up.

 

Only to be rocked back on her heels by a flying tackle. It was a full mid-air body slam that could have won a Superbowl and set Dace back a few paces to spin her attacker into a crushing bear hug, completely uncaring about the heavy cast on her arm. Then Catherine, for I abruptly realized that it was her, sank both hands into Dace’s pale hair to pull her into a kiss. Not just any kiss either. It was the kind of loving, sexy embrace that they should put in porno movies if they wanted the audience to really pay attention. 

 

Wait a minute! That was Catherine…

 

I could only stare, openmouthed.

 

++ Warrick Brown ++

 

When Catherine stiffened like a hunting dog on a scent, my voice trailed off. She wasn’t the ‘deer-in-headlights’ kind of woman and I wasn’t certain if we were under threat or what. Then I’d taken a good look at the tall woman who had fumbled around the corner we were approaching. It was the look on her face that took me a second to register, because it was so oddly out of context. The look of being separated from someone you love and adore and laying eyes on them again after a very long time. Bemused, teary, unabashed adoration and delight and raw desperation radiated from the glowing blue eyes and I saw the same look on Catherine’s face for a moment before she dropped her bag and blurred into motion. I had no idea my coworker could even move that fast. The stranger was nearly flattened by the flying tackle, laughing as she spun Catherine around to regain her balance. 

 

I was both shocked and unsurprised when Catherine kissed the tall stranger like that. After the incendiary and adoring stare they had exchanged, I was expecting it. Okay, I was a little floored that this was Catherine, but I’d had weirder shocks in my time. 

 

Shit, I wish I had some girl who adored me like that.

 

++ Dace ++

 

I’d hoped Catherine would still want me. It wasn’t as though I’d been able to stay in touch for the last couple weeks. Some unnamed fear had kept me from asking the others if they had contacted my Vegas girls, afraid of the answer. That didn’t keep the hope and warm fuzzies from trying to choke me to death when I recognized her voice. If I’d been thinking clearly, her shocked expression might have put me off, but it had instantly melted into recognition and adoration. Then, I’d too much of her to handle, her slim, sturdy body wrapped around me, strong hands in my hair to grip me to her drowning kiss. There wasn’t even a ghost of a thought of taking insult at the rough treatment, and pain radiated all along my right side. Damn, but she was a good kisser. There was no sensation of time passing as I relearned her taste and feel, suckled and nipped at her lips and tongue. I tasted saline even as our friend’s laughter and applause rang down the hallway.

 

Settling Catherine onto her feet, I shifted my aching arm into a more comfortable position and used my left hand to wipe at her tears. “Don’t cry sweetheart. God, I’ve missed you. I wanted to call, but I wasn’t in any condition, and it was so hard to get away from the hospital and drive all this way.”

 

“You’re here,” she sobbed and stroked my caressing hand.

 

“I would have been here sooner, but recovery was so slow. It was impossible to be away from you. I came as soon as I could.”

 

Jerking me roughly into another soul-shattering kiss, Catherine pressed me into the glass wall behind me until I was breathless and kept her grip in my hair almost painfully tight. “You’re here,” breathed feather-soft over my tongue. “You’re here,” a mantra that began to heal the broken places inside me. The Cougar growled and purred at the Coyote’s touch.

 

We were a lone cat no longer.

 

++ Sara ++

 

The burn of relief at seeing them together was like a breath of air after being underwater for far too long. I knew deep in my heart that everything was going to be okay now. Not easy, nothing was ever easy with these women, but it was going to be okay. This was no mere embrace, not just a reunion, but a meeting of souls that humanity had very nearly forgotten.

 

A weight on my heart that I had worried I would grow resigned to, lifted like the fog from the city by the bay.

 

They were so cute together. There was no place in my heart for jealousy of their bond and I flashed a shy glance at the women who had escorted Dace all this way. The one that looked like Jo was confusing, but I found myself in a sudden headlock-hug that derailed my already shaken brain. 

 

“Good to see you, Basker,” Olivia chuckled and kissed my temple before letting me up a bit, but keeping an arm slung around my neck. Never having had siblings, I really liked having these rough and tumble women around me. There was a part of me that felt the absence of Jo keenly. 

 

Trying to get a grip on my frayed emotions, I grinned happily at them and twisted in Olivia’s loose embrace only enough to smack Nick on the arm. He had been swaying his head back and forth between me and Catherine, gawking like an idiot. “What, you jealous?” I sassed and dragged him along to be introduced. There was no way I was going to let my work family get all weird with Catherine. Not if I could try and prevent it. “Jeez, guys,” I teased as I entered their personal space. “Get a room.”

 

“Oh God,” Catherine sobbed and laughed, obviously completely unnerved by the situation and unwound her fingers from Dace’s now-shorter hair. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, Catherine. I’m not embarrassed, just relieved,” Dace soothed shakily and hugged her close. “I’m here and I’m never leaving you again. It won’t be easy, living with me, but I can’t stay sane without you. The other’s have done an amazing job, especially Liv, but I need you.”

 

“Damn straight you’re never leaving me again. Neither of us would survive it,” Catherine scolded-giggled-sobbed and clung to Dace’s tall frame.

 

Only as I stepped up and Warrick’s eyebrows threatened to stay up at his hairline forever, did either blonde seem to notice us. Happiness and a mild reality check had started soothing the wild animal in Dace’s eyes and she seemed nearly human once more. Keeping Catherine gripped tight to her chest with the weight of the cast, Dace awkwardly held out her good left hand. The bewildered grin on her face was utterly endearing and Warrick smiled back. “I’m Dace… Bogart.”

 

“Warrick Brown. So you’re the infamous Dace,” Warrick smiled, ignoring how she had paused over that last name. “Looks like maybe you both need to sit down. That body tackle is gonna catch up with you.”

 

His concern was warranted, and we all poured into the break room while more intros were traded around.

 

Nick shook Dace’s hand willingly enough, but I could tell he was still unnerved. “Sorry to brush you off Nick,” she apologized. “I was a little…” she paused and flushed as her grip tightened on Catherine, who was curled up on her lap. “Distracted.”

 

“I can understand that,” Nick replied, his tone equal parts flirting and challenge.

 

++ Gil Grissom ++

 

My employees didn’t screw around much as they were all dedicated and hardworking, but everyone had their flaky moments. So, with my ‘boss’ senses tingling, I went to the door of my office and glanced down the hall. The babble of voices led me to the break room, and I waved off several curious lab techs. The room was full of people, only half of which I knew.

 

As the tall brunette and Nick’s bodies shifted, I realized that Catherine was clinging to a strange blonde woman showing violently obvious physical trauma. A start of relief and surprise pulled me inside. This was Dace then. No one else could get that expression of shaken adoration from my old friend. So the others must also have been involved in the recent events in Chicago. Since the case in Chicago, Catherine hadn’t been the same. This woman had reached into her hesitant heart and wrapped those vulnerable strings around her fist. And something else that I just couldn’t quite understand.

 

“Looks like I’m missing the party,” I chastised them mildly and all eyes came to rest on me. There was an awkward silence that Warrick broke up with false gaiety.

 

“Well, that’s our cue to get back on the clock, night shift. C’mon Sara, we can all catch up later.”

 

“Wait,” Dace objected, grabbing Sara’s hand. Terror and need was etched blatantly on her face. “Come here, Basker.” Dace tugged Sara down to be kissed warmly. Okay, a little more than just warmly… Nick was gawking and even Warrick’s eyebrows arched up. By the time Dace let Sara up for air, they both looked more than a little flushed. Dace tweaked Sara’s lower lip and purred, “we have important things to work out between us, and I haven’t forgotten that, nor will I. We’ll have time now that I’m here.” Then she flashed the rest of us a dazed grin. “I’m keeping you from your work. I know better than to do that to CSIs. See you around?”

 

“Count on it. C’mon guys,” Warrick agreed and dragged Sara and Nick off into the bowels of the building.

 

Maintaining the strong and loving grip on Catherine, the tall woman blinked back to herself and set her level gaze on me. I could see the fierceness and fear and bewilderment in the crystalline blue. “You’re Dace,” I said simply.

 

“And you’re Gil,” she replied softly. Her offered left hand was warm and dry, the grip solid.

 

“Yes. Do you have a minute?”

 

It was a classic deer-in-the-headlights expression. I was hard-pressed to say who looked more horrified by the prospect of separation, no matter how brief. The moment passed as one of the strange women stepped forward to take one of Catherine’s hands as though to tug her to her feet. “C’mon Wildcat, we have a ton of catching up to do. We’ll be nearby, Dace”

 

Dace nodded slowly at the situation and hooked a finger under Catherine’s chin to tug her gaze up. Slow tears had painted her cheeks wet and Dace nuzzled her tenderly. “Go with Olivia, love. I’ll be here or with Gil.” Their parting kiss had Catherine’s arms wound around Dace’s neck, their blended bodies speaking volumes.

 

“You promise?” Catherine whispered against Dace’s mouth.

 

“I promise.”

 

It was only reluctantly that Catherine let herself be dragged out of the room, firing a hot, vulnerable glance over her shoulder. I was feeling understandably protective of Catherine, wanted to shake this big woman and demand to know what the hell was going on. Dace looked pained as well, but dazed and happy in spite of herself.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

I was shaking.

 

Small tremors of astonishment and pleasure rattled my bones. Most likely, I was still in a state of shock, only dimly aware of where the hell Jo was taking me. Except... that I knew it wasn’t Jo at all. “I’m Jo’s cousin, Jinny,” she smiled over her shoulder and I was shocked to note that it wasn’t just the looks she duplicated so closely, but the voice too. A headache like a swelling volcano was building in my lizard brain, the Coyote laughing in manic joy.

 

“Gotta love police facilities,” Jo... Jinny chuckled as she smacked the locker room door open. “There’s something universal about all of them. Ah, here we are.” Strong hands steered me within and I blindly went for my locker. Only to be hampered by my evil, stubborn combination padlock that I yanked at in childish frustration. In a glance, her smile, her touch, her taste, all had completely unraveled me. Adrenaline and exhilaration and terror made my heart race. I wanted to run screaming for safety or fall begging at her feet. Two lonely weeks had fallen away as though they had never been and yet I was painfully aware of each and every waking and sleeping moment that had passed. A lifetime of looking for the very feelings that were making me panic passed across my mind’s eye. And the goddamn lock wouldn’t come loose!

 

“Hey,” Olivia soothed, suddenly deep in my personal space, and tugged me down onto the bench between her strong body and Jinny’s near-familiarity. “You’re not on the clock with us. Just lean on my shoulder and relax for a minute.” All I could do was collapse into her strength and sob out my feelings. Jinny straddled the bench and scooted up against my back, murmuring soothingly, petting my shaking body into quiescence. Somebody entered the locker room at some point and left as quietly as they’d entered.

 

And slowly the storm passed.

 

Panting into the side of Liv’s neck, I felt as though I’d run a marathon. Or climbed a mountain. “That felt like more than a couple weeks,” she commented oh-so-softly and I sniffled.

 

“I get in too deep,” I confessed, startled by the truth of it. “So I don’t get involved at all. And I know I’ve been waiting lifetimes for her.”

 

“I figured that all out. And you weren’t willing to admit how deep she’d gotten. She does that, I understand completely.” There was a long pause before Jinny spoke up oh-so-softly from behind me.

 

“She’s really missed you, Catherine. And she needs you as badly as you need her. She doesn’t take vulnerability any better than you do. We may have essentially never met, but I still feel like I know you, because I’ve seen you through her eyes. She didn’t mean to stay away, and we should have been more communicative then a few half-assed updates on her condition.”

 

I was too puzzled by the shaken tone in Jinny’s voice and leaned back to look at her through blurry eyes. There was something jagged and distraught in the tough cop, as she raked fingers through her dark hair. “Listening to her beg to be brought to you was mind-blowing. Never thought CD,” she paused and smiled thinly, “Dace, would need anyone. But she can’t do it alone, even as skeptical as I am, I can see it. The cougar is as real as her blue eyes. I can’t explain it, but I’ve seen her. Dace is the best of animal and human, but she’s incomplete. This... animalism is too much for one person to handle. There has to be someone to help her control them, and while Liv here is pretty good at it, she needs you.”

 

“And,” Olivia broke in suddenly and my attention swung away from the face I almost knew to the easy familiarity of Olivia’s rich gaze. “There’s a guy in Cascade, Washington, according to Moni, that knows all about these Sentinels. We haven’t contacted him yet, but it’s… complicated. We will, because I’m betting he’ll be a huge help.” The Coyote could visualize this sleek, dark dog on that strange internal landscape of the cat’s and I grinned helplessly.

 

“Are you staying too?” It never occurred to me that Dace wouldn’t stay with me. The connection was bigger than both of us. Everything Jinny and Olivia said only confirmed my soul-deep conviction. Liv still looked a little startled by the question though. “I can’t protect her all the time, I’ll need help. I have a daughter and my job doesn’t always overlap with you detectives. You can watch her back when I’m not right there.”

 

Flashing Jinny a wry look over my shoulder, Liv smiled sweetly at me. “Funny you should mention that…”

 

++ Dace ++

 

I was totally shaken by the depth of response from Catherine.

 

After meeting her in Chicago, I should have expected it, but I was still utterly terrified by the depth of response in both of us. It was as though the Cougar and I had always been looking for her. While I may not have been listening to the cat most of my life, she had recognized Catherine then, just as she recognized her now. Just knowing she was close had settled the rabid wildness in me to a calm I hadn’t experienced since first laying eyes on her. Even the pain of my jostled wounds faded into a low hum along my nerves.

 

“You look unnerved,” Gil commented softly as he lowered himself gingerly into a chair, as though afraid it would collapse beneath him. My sensitivities were still dialed up enough to make me aware of things a normal human would be oblivious of. This man smelled wary, angry, and very, very protective. None of it showed in his face, but I could sense it in his posture and his smell.

 

“I… I missed her,” I explained lamely. “But that damn serial really worked me over.”

 

Then I forced myself to meet his flat, unfriendly gaze and saw something I hadn’t expected. It was so startling that I shrank back into my chair.

 

“You know,” I heard myself breathe almost soundlessly.

 

“Yeah,” he confirmed and finally settled into the other chair. “Both women have been shocking and brutally honest about what happened in Chicago. They’ve told me everything, even when it spilled well into the territory of ‘too much information’. All the scenes, all the conflicting emotions, all the fear and pleasure and pain. All the strange things Catherine’s been seeing in her mind’s ever since. Sara remembering your blood pouring over her face. Both of them having to leave without being able to say goodbye, terrified that you might never recover from being hurt.”

 

Memories welled up, reminding me why I had to repress them all this time. The incredible pleasure of the free rein that Sara had given me with her body that had riveted me even beyond the danger. That streak of movement, seeming to be too goddamn fast to be human, the cat screaming a warning in shrill counterpoint to her pleasure and mine. Pain like I had never felt, never imagined, an earthquake, a bullet, a charging elephant ramming into my skull like a freight train. Burning days of recovery, not only from the physical damage done to my body, but the psychological as well. Unbidden, my hand raised to the jagged barely-healed wound so dangerously close to my right temple. Gil’s eyes followed the movement and studied the mark with a practiced eye.

 

“I failed them,” I murmured thickly and realized that there were tears in my eyes. “I zoned out and nearly got all of us killed.”

 

“They don’t see it that way.”

 

++ Gil ++

 

As much as I was determined to protect Catherine, I couldn’t watch this woman chastise herself like this. Besides, I was beginning to believe that some of these circumstances really were beyond their control. “You were playing the role that you had been asked to play.”

 

“I wasn’t playing,” she growled fiercely and that was the first I’d seen of the feral side that Catherine and Sara had succumbed so utterly to. It was terrifying and exhilarating, like staring into the eyes of a wild predator through the bars of a cage that might not hold should she choose to challenge it. “Not by the end.”

 

It was more than she had wanted to admit and I changed tactics to give her some mental space. “Will you do me a favor?”

 

“Sure,” Dace managed to say in a forcibly normal tone. I chose to ignore the strain she worked so hard to mask. “Name it.”

 

“Tell them all of this, please. I’ve known Catherine for years and you’ve really affected her. And Sara has been fundamentally altered by what happened to her. Oh sure, they work hard and joke with the others, but something’s changed. Both have been waiting for someone like you for a very long time. I think they want and need different things from you, but I think that maybe you need similar things from them.” I was shocked by a grin blossoming on my face, echoed by one on Dace’s bruised and emotion-ravaged countenance. “I know you can’t survive without Catherine, so I’m not as worried about her. Catherine can take care of herself, now that you’ll be close. Sara is vulnerable though. You laid claim to her and she’s been waiting for you to set the rules. Either give her some structure or cut her loose.”

 

Those blue eyes blinked owlishly at me for a moment before Dace shook herself out like a wet dog. “Damn Gil, you have a way with words. Thank you. It’ll be my pleasure to do all that.”

 

“And theirs, I hope?” I couldn’t resist teasing wickedly and she burst out laughing and finally relaxed. It was as though the confessions and subsequent humor had finally unlocked something inside her and I could see Dace now, not the confused and wounded victim that she had been before. Even the animal in her eyes had calmed. At my request, we went to my cluttered office so that the labs could settle into something resembling normalcy. Our conversation became easy and comfortable as the subjects ranged over work and mutual interests. Dace even indulged me a few minutes of my favorite subject, bugs. She went so far as to meet a few of them and even lightly stroked their delicate carapaces with a smile.

 

A knock on the door finally broke the strangely easygoing interlude. “Come in,” I called and the small, striking red-head from the hall ducked her head in.

 

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but you need rest, Dace. Especially after that near-tackle in the hall earlier.”

 

“Sure thing, doc,” Dace agreed easily and finally stood up. The pained wince and alarming sway of her body wasn’t feigned and I jumped up to put myself under her good left arm. “Thanks Gil. I think maybe I’ve overdone it a bit.”

 

“A bit?” The red-head growled archly and imperiously gestured for me to follow her. Slowly, we made our way through the building, ignoring the looks thrown our way. “Listen, Gil,” Dace started up as slowly and carefully as her footsteps. “I’m serious about not leaving this city. Catherine’s here, and it’s easier for me to move than her. I hate to leave San Francisco, but there’s no question that we have to be close together. And I know that Cath needs to keep her kid somewhere stable and stuff.” I nodded and she continued, vulnerable in my hold. “Can you start making some calls and figure out where they might need an experienced inspector… detective, whatever.”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

“Make that two,” said a strong, unexpected woman’s voice and we half-turned there in the hall to see the muscular brunette with the short hair stride towards us. “I told you that I wasn’t leaving you Dace. Someone will need to watch your back, and no offence to your CSIs, it needs to be another cop.”

 

++ Olivia ++

 

Once Catherine had calmed a little, Jinny and I helped her strip and sent her off to the showers. After a few minutes, Monica had come in with news that Dana was collecting Dace. That sent me off to check up on my new partner. Partner. It was amazing how quickly I had come to regard her as just that. So it was understandable that I was traumatized by her condition. After all, the woman had made herself an extension of me.

 

What was Elliot going to say?

 

It took a minute to settle her into her bed aboard the bus and a quick injection from Doctor Dana to relax her. Begging off for work, the graying man quickly left and Dace watched him thoughtfully before returning the discolored eyes to me. “That was Gil Grissom, their boss.”

 

“Did you work out everything with him?”

 

“Yeah, I think we covered the basics. Seems that Cath and Sara have been painfully honest with him.” We traded grins, hers vaguely sheepish, making me chuckle. 

 

“I’m glad you two are together again,” I murmured softly, knowing perfectly well that she could hear me clearly. “You’ll both be okay now.”

 

“I don’t think I can say how glad I am that you’re staying,” Dace whispered and I met the intense gaze. “I’m comfortable with you, you’re a packmate and good friend. Plenty of action in the city of sin and we seem to make a great team.”

 

“Our captains are gonna flip,” I drawled dryly and Dace startled before chuckling and crushing me with a one-armed hug.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

When I exited the shower, Jo… Jinny, dammit, took one look at my expression and nodded. As soon as I was covered by clothing, I was led silently through the familiar, and suddenly strange-feeling halls of my work. As the journey progressed, I could feel the sensation like pressure in my brain, in my heart, pulsing in every cell. Without a guide, blindfolded, deaf and with both hands tied behind my back, I could have found my way to the cat. Like a coyote following the tiniest molecular trace of scent to track a lone mouse through thick snow, I knew how to find her. Like a compass drawn to the pull of a magnet, I could feel the weight of her presence pressing against me at different angles and intensities. 

 

And then I was in her arms again, wrapped tight around her long frame, breathing into her pale hair. In that moment, I truly understood how badly I had missed this mercurial woman. Missed her strength and gentleness, missed her smile and the simmering energy just under her calm exterior. I’d never expected to feel so strongly about anyone, and had been unprepared for it, both then and now.

 

Dace woke from her drugged sleep only long enough to look at me with dilated eyes. The slow, vulnerable smile made my heart swell with feeling. Then words seemed unnecessary and almost vulgar. Healing sleep, healing touch and togetherness.

 

That was all we needed for now.

 

++ Greg Sanders ++

 

Whatever I had expected to see in the ambulance/bus in the parking lot… this wasn’t it.

 

Catherine was sprawled out on one of the two beds inside, wrapped around a tall blonde woman, kissing her like it had been… well, a long time. 

 

Ah, the things you find out about friends and coworkers when you catch them in compromising positions. All I wanted was to say hi, because I missed Catherine. Not that I was complaining about the show...

 

This was no casual kiss either. It was hard to tell where one left off and the other began. I felt like a dirty old man, staring like this, but I was floored. Behind me, someone made a strangled snort of amusement. Great, now I was in trouble for staring!

 

Behind me, Warrick only looked amused.

 

++ Dace ++

 

Well, this was embarrassing.

 

Even as Catherine tensed and pulled away, Warrick took the strange young man with the messy hair in hand. “Man, you have the worst timing in all of maledom, Sanders. Sorry to bug you two, just checkin’ up. I’ll get Greg here out of your hair.” Before either of us could respond, the bigger man took the new guy in a chokehold, swinging him out of the way.

 

“Thanks man,” I whispered to him and the charismatic smile deepened.

 

“My pleasure. Rumor has it you’d like to stick around. Lemme know if you need a guide. I can teach you this city in no time.”

 

It was an offer I hadn’t expected and was grateful for. “You got it. Soon as I’m sound.”

 

“Sweet. You two get some rest. I got the paperwork covered, Cat.”

 

I had a feeling that I just made a friend.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

It was sweet to watch Warrick make the first gesture of friendship to my lover. It didn’t surprise me, as Warrick and I had a ton in common and were pretty tight pals. Little fazed the man, and my relationship with Dace would be no big deal. Her heightened senses might throw him, but not for long. 

 

“Do you have a place to stay?” I asked quietly as Dace yawned hugely, tugging at me to cuddle carefully into her larger body. “If we stay here in the parking lot, day shift will get awfully curious.”

 

“Yeah, I can believe that,” she chortled softly, thrilling me with the familiarity of the feline sound. “Sorry about the mess. The four of us have been living out of this thing for days.” Looking at the encroaching clutter of four people living in a thirty-foot bus conversion, I could see that it had been a long trip. 

 

“Do you have a place to stay?”

 

Those deep, pale eyes held mine, her soft smile melted my heart. “As long as I’m close to you, I don’t care if I’m living out of a trash can.” Then she gave me a bland, teasing look that made me grin. “Though, a real shower would be nice. The little stall in here isn’t real adequate for my mobility.” I hadn’t even seen it at first, but there was a small shower/tub in the corner.

 

“Come home with me.” The offer wasn’t even really impulsive, but felt more inevitable. “I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Lindsey, but I’ll think of something.”

 

“Lindsey,” Dace tasted the word experimentally. “Your daughter?”

 

That soft question drove home just how little we knew about each other. “I never talked about Lindsey?”

 

“You might have, but a lot of details about the last few weeks are still a little fuzzy.”

 

The memory of Snake-Eyes death swamped over me again, making me feel a little ill. Not because I had killed him, pulling the trigger was not something I had doubted for an instant, but everything that had happened in those brief, endless moments. Tenderly, I ran my finger down the length of her nose, passing close to the blood-shot eyes, then her cheekbone, where the bruising grew deep and violent. Knowing instinctively where not to touch, I let my fingers sift through the buzz-cut fuzz, paler than my own, tracing the strong skull beneath. “I think Lindsey will like you,” I whispered, slipping in closer to kiss her softly.

 

“I’m all yours, and hers, of course.”

 

That was certainly good enough for me!

 

++ Lindsey ++

 

Having mom home made me feel safer. When she was gone, it was like there was a scary nightmare playing on the TV in my head and I didn’t know how to shut it off. She hadn’t talked much about what happened there, but it was something big. Mom didn’t shake up real easy. Like Uncle Warrick, she knew how to handle all the bad stuff, and that made me feel better. Even if it made me angry sometimes, that she was always so… together.

 

Not lately. She was nervous, jumped at every little sound, woke me sometimes, moaning in her sleep, the sound floating from her room to mine. There was a part of me that felt the hurt, torn place inside her, like someone had pulled out a piece that she really, really needed.

 

That part of me that kinda scared me, that part I’d hidden my whole life. Blue eyes, golden fur spotted with dots so that she could hide from things bigger and scarier, the cat that had been in my head forever, seemed stronger and closer.

 

Ever since I’d had that horrible nightmare of blood and gunshots and the yellow eyes of a killer. Two weeks had never felt so long before. School was making me itchy and twitchy, like I felt trapped and a little crazy. Mom didn’t know about any of this yet, because I’d been real quiet. Just like I had to tippy-toe around her and dad when they were angry with each other, which seemed like all the time.

 

Something brushed up against my brain and I stopped where I was getting ready for school. It was just a little touch, like Kat’s pet kitty when he walked close to my legs, tickling me with just the tips of his fur. The cat’s blue-orangy eyes were open and alert now, and I could hear the little growl inside my head. What was that?

 

A long time went by, while I was frozen in the kitchen, the peanut buttery knife still in my hand.

 

There was a key in the lock, the sound of voices outside. I couldn’t figure out if me and my kitty were afraid or not.

 

The door swung open, and mom was there, making me feel better.

 

But there was someone behind her… or something.

 

For a little bitty time, there was the biggest, prettiest red-yellow cat I’d ever seen, stepping around mom’s legs. I knew what it was, I’d always known what it was. There were pictures all over my scrapbook, the one I kept hidden from mom and dad, ‘cause I thought it would freak them out. She was a cougar, and I dropped the knife to cover my mouth and gasp.

 

This time, the gold-yellow eyes didn’t scare me. This time, I knew who this cat was. This was the cat that mom needed, the one who held the missing piece that was making mom so lonely.

 

This was the cat who had called me, and made me know what I was.

 

++ Dace ++

 

The beautiful girl child stood frozen, the image of the half-grown cougar cub superimposed over her for endless moments. Shocked, and yet strangely not surprised, I realized that this girl was just like me. Curious, but understandably wary, the cub bristled defensively, hissing, white teeth flashing beneath the almost-adolescent blue-amber eyes. 

 

My cat purred back.

 

Silence fell, profound and poignant. This lonely cub hesitated, the growling falling away, desperate curiosity tugging her to me. Then I was kneeling before her, the pain in my body forgotten as our souls communicated. 

 

“Lindsey,” Catherine spoke oh-so-softly into the thick quiet. “This is the one I’ve been missing so badly.”

 

She startled at the Coyote spirit there in her mother’s eyes, but understood it on a deep level. Timidly, Lindsey reached out, and touched my face. “You’re… you’re like me.”

 

“Oh, sweet cub,” I purred adoringly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time.” Stroking her fine, long hair, I knew I was grinning like a complete idiot, and loving every minute of it. “My name is Dace.”

 

“I’m Lindsey,” she smiled back, the expression utterly charming on her little face. Then she went more serious, staring intently into my eyes. “Are you going to stay?”

 

That completely took me by surprise. In the mere moments since our gazes met, the bond was solidified and I nodded. “Nothing will keep me away. I promise.” 

 

++ Catherine ++

 

It was the closest I’d ever come to perfection. Sprawled out on my big bed, with this completely unexpected soulmate and lover, Lindsey tucked securely between us. All my life I had felt incomplete, alone and adrift. My litany of self-destruction made me cringe looking back. Yet… none of it had broken me, or bested me. Not a lonely childhood, not the sex industry, not the drugs, not Eddie, not the horrors I saw day after day in my work.

 

I had been waiting for her.

 

Dace stirred slightly, her long body shifting in a faint stretch, unbearably feline and sensual. Even the wince that ghosted over her face as that right arm moved slightly on the pillow that propped it up could not detract from her power and beauty.

 

I felt Dace’s eyes before I actually met that magnetic gaze. “It’ll heal,” she said simply, her expression a warm, deep wealth of understanding. “The hidden stuff too. Thanks to you,” her grin warmed and her chin tilted at the limp bundle between us. “And the cub here.” Still grinning lovingly, Dace tugged at me, until I nestled my face into the crook of her neck. “You saved me. In more ways then you’ll ever know.”

 

“Mutual,” I managed to whisper around the lump in my throat.

 

“This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius,” Dace warbled the old sixties song badly, making me chuckle and Lindsey to stir sleepily.

 

“You’re a lousy singer,” my baby murmured groggily, but I could hear the amusement in her tone. In response, Dace began howling horribly out of tune to some melody only she could hear. We Willows girls shrieked in appropriate horror, laughing like banshees. 

 

Somehow, we managed not to jostle Dace’s wounds, and the hilarity wound down into comfort once again. Soon, loving darkness covered us, and we slept in a new sense of family.

 

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Your Love Is Like Las Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dace has a pride/pack now, and a home, so she goes to Anastasia for some additional permanence. Now, it’s Sara’s turn to face the Cougar for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R, for Dace stalking.
> 
> Pairings: Dace/Catherine & Sara, revisited. Anastasia/Tessa.

Book 5: Ripples.

++ Anastasia ++

 

(2-2-02)

 

Another day, another crisis or twenty.

 

Sigh. I really was getting to old for this. In the brief days while I was in Chicago, various levels of chaos had broken out all over my empire. Supply problems, an endless battle in my hometown, a bizarre series of accidental poisonings in New Orleans that had the police crawling all over Sphinx’s territory. The woman was extremely unhappy about that, and I could hardly blame her. The best I could do was keep communication lines open and send a double handful of my best enforcers and lawyer-types. There were personnel issues in Dallas, echoed nearly all the way to Denver, and the Health Department was doing their damnest, again, to shut down some of my most prolific partners in Florida.

 

Those were the biggest icebergs, and they were grinding my skull into a serious headache. My stomach growling bitchily was not helping. Pulling off my reading glasses, I rubbed the bridge of my nose, contemplating my next move. 

 

Then the intercom buzzed.

 

My fist tightened up so fast that the plastic frames groaned in protest. Oh goddess, now what…

 

“My Lady?” Tessa spoke my title demurely, a strange quaver in her voice. “There’s someone here to see you.”

 

I was in no mood for my pet to be coy and debated on how I was going to react to the vaguely-phrased interruption. Then suddenly, there was no time to do anything as the door swung open and my day took on a completely and utterly unexpected turn.

 

When Karen had described Dace’s wounds, my mind had conjured all manner of horrific lacerations and contusions.

 

The reality was much, much worse.

 

++ Dace ++

 

Honestly, I’d grown so used to the ruin of my face and arm, that Anastasia’s reaction took me by surprise. Blanching an unhealthy shade of cream and ash, she put both fists to her face and actually gasped in horror. 

 

So I fell back to my greatest weapon, smiling faintly. “You should see the other guy.”

 

There was a long, pregnant moment, when I had the rare pleasure of basking in the knowledge that I had left the woman speechless. Then she utterly shocked me, coming around the desk, raising shaking hands as though she were going to touch me. It wasn’t that reaction that floored me… but the tears in the woman’s darkened eyes.

 

“Hey,” I whispered softly, gently. “Hey, I’m okay. Really. Give me a few months, and you’ll hardly even know this even happened.” When the stricken look didn’t fade, I painstakingly hunched over, no easy feat in my condition, and rubbed my good cheek against hers, purring softly in comfort. Nuzzling at the corner of the older woman’s mouth, I did my best to coax her from her shock. One elegant hand came between our skins, and I painfully straightened up.

 

Those unique hazel eyes were dark, intense, and I held them fearlessly, let her see my story in my pale gaze. Roughly clearing her throat, she swallowed down her initial reaction and stroked my unbruised chin with her fingers. “Well, you will certainly get quite the rakish scar, won’t you?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

It was the warmest moment we had ever shared, and I loved it.

 

“Oh child,” she suddenly fussed. “Sit down before you fall down.” Imperiously, I was directed to a straight-backed, lightly padded seat that I decided I could probably get out of without killing myself when the time came. “How did you get here from Chicago in this condition?”

 

“My pack is outside with Tessa. They brought me here, and got me reunited with Catherine. I need to speak with you about my future.” Startled, Anastasia sat slowly in the matching chair beside me, taking my left hand in her warm palms. This well-remembered, yet nearly-forgotten maternal side of her was actually enormously reassuring. Nodding slowly, stunned by my coming to her like this, she remained silent for the moment.

 

++ Anastasia ++

 

See the other guy, indeed. As always, this mercurial young woman had managed to aggravate and amuse me all at once. It was no mean feat, the way she could play the emotions of others with the skill of a master conductor. Too stunned by her appearance, both the horrific wounds and her presence in my inner sanctum, all I was capable of was silently giving her my full attention.

 

The blue eyes, colored almost violet by the bloodied surrounding tissue, turned thoughtful for a long moment. These serious moments were once rare with the young Dace, but I could see that they sat much better on this adult she had become. Perhaps there was some hope for the girl after all.

 

“I’m coming to this city to live.” That little bomb stilled the air, and I was left blinking in surprise, trying to recover. “Catherine is here, and I can’t be separated from her again. And her daughter needs me now, too.” The earnest face, black and blue and blonde, faced me squarely, the expression pleading and completely self-assured. “I would really like to be an asset to you, My Lady, not an aggravation underfoot. It’s all I’d ever wanted to be to you.” The expression went self-recriminating, making me wince as the violently discolored blue eyes fell away. “But I always disappointed you.”

 

“Actually,” my voice cracked alarmingly around all the strong emotions in the room. “I would have to say that you’ve done quite the opposite.” That startled her. In some respects, it startled us both. “Looking back has made me realize several very key things about you. First, I believe that I took out much of my disappointment in the Tiger out on you. Somehow, I couldn’t blame her for not accepting the role as my successor, and you were the easiest target. You two were always so close, that it was, indeed, all too easy. You were also a very difficult challenge to train and mold, and frankly, I don’t feel to this day as though I did you justice. Letting my own feelings of failure transpose onto you was my own response to a failure that I felt I could not admit too.” Feeling better for the confession, I smiled warmly at Dace, enjoying her pleased surprise. “And, yes, your irreverence does aggravate the shit out of me, but I can see now that it is a great part of your appeal. Karen spoke at length about what you accomplished while we were flying home from Chicago.” Squeezing the fingers held in mine, I smiled luminously at this sudden new chapter in my life. “I’ve been looking forward to telling you how proud I am of you.”

 

++ Dace ++

 

Well, chase me up a tree with barking dogs, that was totally unexpected. Grinning idiotically, as much as my battered face allowed, I beamed at the older woman. “Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in a while.”

 

“Oh, I’ll gamble that your packmates have good things to say about you,” Anastasia said wryly, patting my hand before she released me and stood to cross the spacious office. It hardly looked any different from when I’d seen it as a nervous and brash fifteen year old newly in Sylvia’s care. Including that heavy, darkly stained pecan desk that I had been bent over quite a few times. Fiddling at the sidebar, Anastasia caught my wistful, slightly embarrassed expression and chuckled. “I see you remember my favorite family heirloom.”

 

“Not bloody likely to forget.”

 

My flippant comment earned a faintly exasperated look as she finished up whatever she was doing, returning to me with two glasses. “It’s sparkling apple juice. I know better than to give you alcohol with those kinds of wounds. Besides, this is a guilty pleasure of mine.”

 

It was cool, crisp and decadent in its simplicity, much better than the stuff off the shelf, and some of that was pretty damn good. “Mmmm,” hummed up from my chest in pleasure, earning a throaty chuckle from my companion.

 

“Years ago, Sylvia hooked me up with an apple grower in eastern Washington that presses quite a lot of this specifically for me. As you can taste, the cost it worth it.”

 

“Quite.”

 

For long moments, we sat in a quiet that warmed and surprised me in its easy comfort. This feeling had never been between us before, this calm that bespoke of respect and something that might be almost like home. Of all the people that had passed through my life, both this side overshadowed with the kinky, as well as the more mundane, this woman was one of the ones I had always wanted to earn more from. Maybe I could do that now.

 

++ Anastasia ++

 

There was no deciphering the level, thoughtful gaze that Dace leveled at me. Not quite a stare, but longer and heavier than a mere look, it was more akin to thought made caress. “What?” I finally had to ask, inciting another of the woman’s brilliant grins. Even lopsided from the pain of her ravaged face, it was a potent emotion.

 

“Remembering, hoping, wondering,” was the enigmatic reply. “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of my boss?” A shadow passed over her sunshine. “Well, my former boss now.”

 

Utterly puzzled now, I arched a brow and questioned in disbelief, “Sylvia?”

 

“No, no,” she hastened to chuckle, obviously highly amused at the thought. “My police captain, Kate McCafferty. When I went out on to the streets as a beat cop, she was the first officer they paired me off with. She set me up with the partner that was my rock for many years.” The shadow was a gloomy rainstorm across her countenance suddenly, but cleared a bit when she continued. “In time, she made captain and has been my boss for years now. Pretty much since I became an inspector.”

 

“Do you miss it?”

 

Startled at my question, Dace’s gaze refocused, sharp and alert through all the broken blood vessels. “This isn’t permanent,” came out more than a little defensively, echoed by a hiss of pain and her left hand clasping over the hard cast. 

 

The wince was more than just a physical pain.

 

Concerned, I reached out, touched the tense shoulder. “What will be will be, Dace. If there is some worst case scenario involving your future as a police officer, you will always have a home here.” Again, she looked startled, only this time she was distinctly relieved and I was happy to do it. “And I can offer you Tessa.” 

 

That earned a reluctant grin, that I echoed fully. “Dunno if I’m up to that.”

 

“While I certainly won’t count that out of the picture in time, child, that’s not what I meant. Tessa has the most exquisite healing touch. Give her a try, you won’t regret it.”

 

++ Anastasia ++

 

The idea of having Leonacouer’s potent magic in my hand of cards was actually extremely appealing once I had a moment to consider it. Even in this brief conversation, I could see that she had indeed changed for the better. Perhaps it was the seriousness of the recent case in Chicago, or her wounds, or the doppelganger of young KC that had obviously claimed and tamed her wildest side, or perhaps all of that and more, but she had changed on a fundamental level.

 

I very much approved of what I saw.

 

When we stepped into the outer office, very much Tessa’s domain, I was amused and startled to see that the aforementioned packmates were entertaining my dearest pet. There was a lovely girl child, perhaps eight or nine in age, that was playing some kind of hand game like complicated patty-cakes with Tessa, who was grinning and intense with concentration. Nearby was Catherine Willows, smiling indulgently, and Dace’s dark sidekick, sprawled back lazily in one of the comfy chairs. Immediately, the later two both straightened up and gave me their undivided attention. The respect warmed me and I smiled warmly. “Catherine, Dobie, it’s good to see you again.”

 

The blonde child stopped, eyeing me curiously, her head canted to one side like an alert animal, the blue gaze intense and sharp. Catherine stood to rest possessive hands on the girl’s shoulders, and I could see the resemblance between them. “Anastasia, this is my daughter, Lindsey. Lindsey, Anastasia is the woman that Dace was talking about.”

 

“Are you going to help Dace stay here?”

 

Forthright, and with an edge of demand to her girlish tone. I liked her already. KC was going to squeal like a girlie-girl when she found out the mystery niece had a daughter! After touching Dace softly on the arm, I went to Lindsey, offering a hand. “Yes, I intend on doing everything in my power to ensure that Dace has every reason to stay.” Dropping my voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper, I added, “and I am a very powerful woman.”

 

Beaming winningly, so like Dace, this child of sunshine took my hand and shook it smartly. “Pleased to meet you, Anastasia.”

 

++ Dace ++

 

While Linds flattered the daylights out of Anastasia, I limped over to Tessa, regarding the dark-haired beauty thoughtfully. She seemed thrilled and alarmed at the chaotic energy swirling around her, courtesy of the eight year old. “I need your help.”

 

Blue eyes, darker and deeper than my own, regarded me with thinly veiled curiosity. “Anything, Leonacouer.”

 

While I certainly didn’t mind the respectful use of my title, I figured that this really wasn’t the time. “No need for formalities, Tessa, not like this.” It was the right thing to say, as she lit up with a big smile and nodded.

 

“Then, what can I help you with, Dace?”

 

“I hurt.”

 

Startled by my bluntness, her gaze took on that calm, almost calculating cast that I’d seen on many a doctor’s face. “A massage?” She guessed and I nodded in relief. “It would be my pleasure. Olivia was saying you have a doctor friend traveling with you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“If you have her there, I can do it as soon as you’d like. You’re standing like you’re dying.”

 

Since the pain my shoulders was starting to make my head buzz and my nerves whine, I could only nod in agreement. Cath was suddenly tucking herself under my left arm, smiling lovingly at me. How the hell did I ever get so lucky? “I’ll call Doctor Dana as soon as we leave here. You can come by my place if you can handle our little slice of suburbia.”

 

“And I can finish teaching you the game,” Lindsey chimed in.

 

“Well then, I can certainly hardly refuse such nice offers! Just give me an address and a time, and I’ll be there.”

 

++ Tessa ++

 

It was very strange to be out like this without Anastasia. Dressed in jeans and a light sweater, I climbed out of the car and reached in to grab the pair of stuffed duffel bags before heading towards the charming house. They must be feeling a little crowded with so many of them crammed into the space. I would have to bring this up to Anastasia.

 

A polite knock sent up a flurry of muffled sound inside, culminating in Lindsey’s yanking open the door with a grin. “Hello Tessa! Hope you’re hungry.”

 

That was how I came to be eating a huge plate of very tasty spaghetti with Lindsey and her grown-ups. Throughout the meal, I learned that the two FBI agents were still living in the bus conversion in the driveway, while Olivia was sleeping on the couch. During the day, they were setting up shop in town, whatever that entailed exactly. Lindsey was unfazed by Dace’s obvious relationship with Catherine, and that warmed me immensely.

 

Like hanging out with the original Aces and the various friends that accumulated around them, I enjoyed my meal with these new folks enormously. Then Doctor Dana, the striking red-head, dragged Dace off while the rest of us cleaned up. It seemed only a few minutes passed while I played with Lindsey, before the doctor returned. “She’s all yours, Tessa. She seems fine wherever there’s no bruising, so have fun.”

 

“Thank you. Goodnight to whoever won’t be up when I’m done.”

 

With their warm farewells ringing in my ears, I went to face the Lioness Hearted. Though, sprawled out the way she was, in nothing but a towel tossed over her hips, the woman was hardly intimidating. There was a lankiness to her that spoke of more than metabolism and diet and working out. Weight had been shed by her trauma, and her thinness was nearly unhealthy. The heavy cast was carefully set on a pillow, out of the sling that normally held it, and I could see the horrible bruising that escaped the encapsulating material, climbing over her elbow. The left shoulder looked red and angry where the sling had been cutting into her flesh for some time. But it was the right side of her face that drew the eye, like an angry storm approaching over the horizon.

 

++ Dace ++

 

I’d known who it was before she even opened the door, and didn’t even bother to open my eyes. These powers were amazing in the scope of what they could do. “Relaxed?” Tessa asked softly, her voice the same as it had always been to me.

 

“As I can be.”

 

“Fair enough.” There were small sounds of her digging around in the bags I’d noticed upon her arrival. “I really like your family.” The soft praise made me smile. Gentle plant scents wafted to my nose, and I made sure to keep my power dialed down.

 

“Good, because they’ll be underfoot all the time now. The softer the smell, the better,” I said calmly, catching the very brief hesitation to her movements. “I’ve gotten really sensitive since being hit.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but I wasn’t up to explaining the whole ‘Sentinel’ thing right now.

 

Oddly, Tessa started at my feet, firmly but delicately stroking each toe, the arches and heavily calloused heels. Those skillful fingers caressed my ankles, focusing my attention away from the parts of me that hurt so badly. It was a long, slow, seductive dance of touch and smell and sound, my attention focused on her magic. Those hands soothed away the soreness of my awkward gait as I compensated for the pain, warmed the thin flesh over my bones, dug pleasantly into the thick muscles, gently caressed the places where the agony could not quite be banished.

 

There was no hesitation over the elaborate tattoos on my back, after all, she’d seen them before, and the weight of her was grounding where she straddled my ass. At some point, she murmured that she would return, quickly doing so with Dana and Catherine in tow. They turned me over, limp and compliant, onto my back, careful to not make me overly aware of my broken arm.

 

There was more pleasure now, with Tessa massaging me and Catherine laying beside me, touching my face and speaking soft, nonsense love-talk to me.

 

Sleep came easily to me in time.

 

++ Sara ++

 

(2-3-02)

 

There’s a certain peace in hard work. The symphony of movement and intellect that yields an end result. There was never any shortage of work in the field I had chosen. After all, people died every day by the thousands. At the moment, I was completely engrossed in the familiar crime scene photos of my latest project. Sometimes the shots were so similar that only the ID numbers and attached comments set them apart. I knew the basic layout of the crime scene in my mind, a 3D mental map of all the myriad of clues. Now, I was just adding all the endless minutiae that would detail the picture.

 

It was a handy skill, this ability to recreate in my head. It was even better that I could store up thousands of these ‘maps’ in my gray matter. At least the intellect came in handy for something…

 

Something in me froze.

 

That creepy sensation like being watched… eyes in the dark forest sizing me up for a meal.

 

Absolute terror squeezed my lungs, turned my blood to ice, cold sweat beading on my skin. 

 

He looked at me like that. Like meat on the hoof. Dace’s blood splashing hot and thick on my face and chest, the taste of it that haunted me. The sickening, nightmare-inducing crack of shattering bone, my own screaming ringing in my ears. Bullets retorting like thunder, the red cloud of a madman’s misted blood…

 

It had been a long time since I had slept enough to be rested.

 

Still unmoving, hunched over my workspace, eyes blind now to the pictures on the light table, I couldn’t look, and my breathing was quick and shallow.

 

Something else burned through the terror… That subtle, animal magnetism that turned the icy liquid on my skin to something thick and wet and needy between my legs. So fast, it left me a little dizzy, I was jerked from fear to arousal, the sensations so similar and yet completely opposite.

 

Confused, needy, fearful… I wanted it to be her so badly that the need made me feel like I was short circuiting.

 

Hot… moist… fleeting as the smallest breeze on my burning skin… the sensation of breath on the nape of my neck, coiling through the dark strands of hair protecting that vulnerable spot.

 

Oh god…

 

++ Dace ++

 

She was sweet prey. Every emotion painted her smell more evocatively than mere words, and I breathed her in like sin. Right now, there was no pain, no rules, no care of the glass walls leaving us exposed to the eyes of the other human fish in this massive aquarium. Right now, it was only this fine communication between us, and our mutual need for her fear and arousal.

 

Close enough to touch, the smell of her intoxicating, I breathed deep, pulling her musky scent across the wet, sensitive places in my skull. A soundless rumble of pleasure, of heady anticipation, a hot, deliberate breath across the base of her slender neck, where I wanted to sink my teeth into her flesh.

 

Both of us made a small sound, the notes complimentary in their harmony.

 

Dropping my head, ignoring the pain in my body, I sought out that blissfully fragrant place where the clinical trappings of the modern world could not eliminate the sweet scent of this female.

 

Straight dark hairs tickled my mouth, her sweat flavored with her rollercoastering emotions made me purr. Now she moaned softly for real at the tickle of my lips and voice, the push of my breath where it breezed over her skin. My blunt, useless human teeth bared themselves in honor of my feline soul, sinking into the bumps of her spine in a slow motion tribute to a wild bite that would take her life.

 

We were both intoxicated now.

 

Then the mood shattered with the unwelcoming addition of another player, a man-dog pretending he was a wolf, and my eyes flashed gold and angry.

 

The young man, eyes wide in shock, squeaked like a frightened rabbit and bolted just as fast.

 

“Oh shit,” Sara whimpered. “Greg…”

 

Reality shifted again, becoming its boring, banal self and I snorted in irritation. “Guess Warrick was right. That boy does have the worst timing in all of maledom.”

 

++ Olivia ++

 

Dodging the young man’s rush, I wondered if Dace had put that horny-spooked look on his face. Chuckling, I made a mental note to ask later and continued my search. It was hugely entertaining that I barely received a second glace, despite the baggy shirt/faded jeans combo and the visitor badge around my neck. Cops knew their own.

 

It took grabbing a rookie that was checking me out to get coherent directions through the maze, and I finally found myself at the door I was looking for. For a moment, I had the chance to study Jim Brass before he became aware of my gaze. He had that classic dedicated but worn body language the old-timers always get. When he looked up, I was gratified by his direct stare and care-worn face and sturdy frame. This was a man that still took the job seriously.

 

Mildly startled and completely intrigued, he took me in for a moment before speaking. “Can I help you?”

 

“Captain Brass, my name is Detective Olivia Benson, NYPD. I’m a friend of Catherine Willows and Sara Sidle.” Understanding started dawning, clearing as I finished my intro. “We met recently in Chicago.”

 

On his feet now, Jim Brass stepped closer, offering a hand which I shook warmly. “If you’re one of the ones that got them home safe, then I’m real damn glad to meet you, Benson.”

 

We grinned in perfect understanding, one detective to another. “Yes sir. I’ve been on the force for fourteen years, and I’m relocating to Las Vegas. I was hoping that we could be mutually useful to one another.”

 

“Hey, I’m never the kind of guy to turn down talent. New York, huh? Hell of a change to come here.”

 

I obeyed his gesture to take a seat, gratified that he closed the door before sitting back down. Shrugging, I picked up my half of the informal interview. “I’ve got new obligations.”

 

“Ah yes, the infamous Dace,” the man chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. No one knows much details, but a story as wild as a serial that nearly took out Willows’ new girlfriend is too juicy to not make the rounds.” Part of me was offended at his flippancy about these women I adored and my expression must have shown it, because he waved it off. “No offense, Benson. No one in this town is stupid enough to cross Catherine Willows, trust me. You’ve fallen in with some of the best people I know.” 

 

And that merely reinforced the bone-deep knowledge that I had made the correct decision about my future.

 

++ Monica ++

 

“If there’s already confirmed three of them, then there’s probably more,” I commented idly, earning a chuckle from the speaker phone.

 

“I can guarantee it,” Blair Sandburg replied, his voice jovial. “And, actually, there’s at least four.”

 

“Four?” Now, he had finally succeeded in pulling me away from the seemingly endless Pandora’s Box of paperwork involved in my new life’s work. This project was going to make or break me.

 

“Yep. Years ago, Jim and I had an unfortunate run-in with a rogue Sentinel, who tried to kill me and seduce Jim.” Stunned, I processed this new information, even as the man continued. “She misused some ancestral knowledge and dialed up her powers pretty much to their limits and went off the deep end.” Abruptly, his voice went angry and territorial. “Nearly took Jim with her.”

 

“Wait… went off the deep end?”

 

“Yep. As far as I know, she’s in some psyche ward somewhere. The case went international due to the ancient temples being in the Amazon, so I guess the Feds ended up with her.”

 

“Name,” I demanded imperiously and he chuckled again.

 

“Alex Barnes.”

 

“When?”

 

“May of ninety-eight. You gonna track her down?”

 

“I’m sure gonna try.” Firing off a series of emails, I forced my nerves to calm down and leaned away from the computer. “Why didn’t you tell me about her before?”

 

There was a pregnant quiet for a moment, broken up only by the poorly transmitted sound of Blair’s breathing. “Honestly? There was a part of me that still didn’t believe you were serious. It was Snake-Eyes that convinced me, and you only gave me full disclosure in the last hour.”

 

“Okay, that’s fair. So Garcia wasn’t the only one that went rogue,” I mused to myself, knowing that Sandburg was listening to every word. “Dace is convinced that her niece is one too. Four year old in Colorado.”

 

“Another child? That would be amazing.”

 

“All girls so far, except Jim and Garcia.” I was making a habit of not calling the deceased ‘Snake-  
Eyes’ any longer. It seemed strangely disrespectful to all that had happened involving him. “Wonder why that is.”

 

“Could just be coincidence. Or maybe because females work better together. Not so many territorial issues.”

 

“Hmmm. Interesting. Any ideas why all the Sentinels are cats and the Guides canines?”

 

“How much time do you have?”

 

“Lay it on me, Sandburg.”

 

++ Sara ++

 

Shaking with nerves, I paused at Catherine’s door and hesitated. In a voice that brooked no argument, Dace had instructed me to be here at this hour, and walked out, leaving me a steaming mass of incoherent hormones.

 

Greg and I hadn’t even been able to look at each other the rest of shift. At some point in time that would amused the hell out of me.

 

The door being yanked open made me jump in shock. Lindsey looked at me oddly, grinning like she knew more than she should. “Hi, Sara! Come on in. Dace is changing clothes.”

 

“Thanks, Lindsey,” I managed to force myself to say, and warily stepped into the house. Olivia’s things were set neatly by the couch, hardly any indication the woman was living there, and I belatedly noted that the bus was not in the driveway.

 

“Olivia went with Monica and Dana to check out new digs,” Lindsey explained, and I wondered when she had learned to read minds. Or was I just that transparent? Better not ask…

 

“Thanks,” I murmured, standing uncomfortably there, by the front door. 

 

“Boo,” Catherine’s voice made me jump and look over in surprise. “Such intensity Sidle. You really gotta relax.” The teasing tone actually made me smile, as did the fond pat on the cheek she bestowed me as she sashayed by. “Dace has been looking forward to this. She’s anxious about what you two mean to each other. ‘Bout time too.”

 

Intrigued now by the one-sided conversation, I followed Catherine into the living room. “I… I don’t understand.”

 

“Sara,” Catherine said, exasperated. “She needs you. There’s a bond there that no one is going to argue with, least of all me. She needs me, sure, but she needs you just as much. Things are going to be a little weird until she heals, but it will happen.” Puttering around the room, she grinned at me, but I could sense the melancholy beneath. “Soon, you’ll see beyond the bruises, and you’ll see beyond your memories.”

 

“And the red eyes,” Dace’s voice purred softly behind me, and I turned to face what really might turn out to be my future after all.

 

++ Dace ++

 

Sore, but feeling pretty decent, I gestured for Sara to proceed me out and blew a kiss to the Willows girls. “I’ll be back a decent hour, mom.”

 

“Smart-aleck,” Catherine called after me good-naturedly, harmonizing with Lindsey’s giggle. In the driveway was a silver SUV I thought was a Dodge, but didn’t really care. What mattered is that it was easy to get into and had a thick, comfortable seat that I could sink into.

 

“There’s a place that Anastasia recommended to me,” I said quietly to Sara as she climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “The Black Pearl, over on Boot Hill and Turner.”

 

“I know the place,” Sara whispered, staring at the wheel. 

 

“I’m nervous too.” My gentle confession brought the rich, dark eyes to me, and I held her gaze where I was sunk as deep as possible into the car seat. “You’re something I’ve been looking for a very, very long time.” An almost shy smile curved my mouth, echoed on her slender features. “At least you might be. We might be.”

 

Now she smiled for real, sweet and bashful, reaching out to take my left hand where it lay on my thigh. Tracing patterns on my life and love and heart lines, she cleared her throat quietly. “I’d like that.”

 

“Dinner first,” I smiled, leaving my hand, palm up, on her thigh while she started the car up. Once we were underway, she continued to stroke my hand as though learning the shape of my flesh. Soon, we arrived at a building with a distinctly Asian look to it, and I directed Sara to pull into valet.

 

The moment I stepped out, I realized that Anastasia had done more than just recommend this place to me. One employee whispered urgently to another and soon an impeccably dressed man bustled out. “Leonacouer,” he greeted me formally and gave a perfect bow. “I am Charles. We have been awaiting you.”

 

This was a life that I had nearly forgotten. Privilege, power and a respect that bordered on fear. This was the life of the Four Suits and their immediate proxies. Nodding coolly to the man, I gestured to the vast, twin red doors. “Lead the way, Charles.”

 

++ Sara ++

 

There was a change in Dace, an almost imperceptible shift of power. Something in her pain-awkward stride, in her rich voice, in the flash of her frighteningly red-rimmed eyes. I nearly startled, feeling out of place, as her hand wrapped around mine, bringing me in close to her side. Our guide, Charles, was silent as he led us to a private elevator that led to a long landing above an opulent, bustling restaurant. It smelled heavenly and Dace smiled at my sniffing the air.

 

In a separate chamber above the main dining room, Dace and I were led to an elegantly sound-proofed room with a rice paper chamber in the center like an enormous Japanese lantern. Charles slid one translucent panel aside and bowed for us to walk up the three steps into the lantern. Rather than a stark, traditional eating room, there was a scoop-like seat like the one we’d slept in after the reception in Chicago and many opulent pillows piled with careful randomness. The low table held only a single red orchid, in a pot decorated with the Lady Heartsblood’s symbol.

 

“Tea will be brought to you shortly, Leonacouer,” Charles said quietly and the rice paper panel slid soundlessly into place. While Dace got herself settled into the scoop chair, I poked about the room, noting the craftsmanship of the simple décor, the cut-crystal panels of the hanging light.

 

“Stop fussing, you scientist you,” Dace chuckled finally from where she was half-reclined comfortably in the unusual piece of furniture. “I think I’m going to get me one of these things. This is the most comfortable I’ve been since breaking my arm.” Patting a heavily padded stool the exact height of the chair, Dace smiled invitingly at me. So, I went to her, sinking down and feeling where our skins warmed at the hip. I faced her now, my thigh aligned along her ribs, that undamaged left arm slung casually over my leg. “This is the kind of life that represented the Red Queen to me,” Dace mused thoughtfully and I met her gaze. “It takes some getting used to, when you’re a simple, screwed up kid like I was. All this is props, no different than the leathers and the chains and the attitudes. A shift away from reality is what the Suits truly do best. Guess I gotta get used to it again.” Before I could figure out a reply, there was a scratch of sound at the panel where we had entered. “Come,” Dace said in a slightly raised voice, her tone authoritative and no-nonsense.

 

Despite myself, it made me wet.

 

A pretty young woman in traditional Japanese garb entered, effortlessly shuffling in on her knees with a grace that made me envious. In her hands was a large tray of tea paraphernalia. “Tea?” She asked softly, a demure performance for this powerful client. Dace waved lazily for her to continue.

 

It was a fascinating ritual of smooth, precise movements. Not a gesture was wasted or unnecessary, not the actual act of preparing the tea, nor the way she would so carefully draw aside the trailing sleeves of the kimono. Three pours of the steaming water, and the cup was reverently brought to Dace, the girl’s head bowed. 

 

“ _Arigato_ ,” Dace purred in that dangerous, silky tone that seemed to hypnotize all who heard it. Sipping carefully at the cup, she then held it out and I helplessly leaned close, allowing her to tilt the heavy ceramic and feed me a small mouthful of the steaming, fragrant brew.

 

It only then occurred to me that this was part of the seduction, part of the ritual of bonding us together.

 

For the first time in my life… I felt cherished. And it made my heart and throat ache with unaccustomed joy.

 

++ Dace ++

 

It dawned in the rich, dark eyes like a sunrise after a winter of rain. Sara was beginning to get what this all was, this drawn out seduction of all her senses and synapses. There were no words to describe how relieved I was. There were old pains in this woman that I didn’t understand, that I might never understand, and I wanted to bring her to a loving place beyond that pain. No, neither of us could live in this fantasy realm indefinitely, but I could sure as hell do my best to create a retreat for us. Sometimes with kindness, like now, and other times with a careful, loving pain that was cathartic. 

 

Pressing the cup into Sara’s hands, I shooed the serving girl away and brought my girl’s head down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Once again, I felt that hope, that she would be mine and mine alone swell up, nosing around in the fine, dark hair. Sniffling around her tears, Sara allowed me the intimacy, relaxing at last. I was so relieved. Perhaps now we could move past the memories of how I sustained my injuries and see what we could build together.

 

The meal was a light, sumptuous affair of easily-consumed foods that would not tax my wounded body. Sushi and small qualities of delicious, thin meats and vegetables, little pasta pockets of savory things. Sara giggled coquettishly as she fed me some of the nibbles, and willingly ate from my fingers when I returned the favor. Creamy green tea ice cream turned into kisses, which in turn melted me faster than the cold desert. Hunched over my battered upper body, Sara fed from my willing mouth, gave me a part of herself in return.

 

Squeaking in surprise when I nipped Topishly at her, Sara moaned evocatively and softened further against me. “I’m really glad we seem to get along so nicely,” I breathed against her lips, earning a soft laugh.

 

“Would have never dreamed this, back in San Francisco,” she whispered back, eyes blackened by the draping fall of her hair around our faces.

 

“Me either. This is gonna be weird for awhile, me being your Top while I’m laid up like this. Figured I better go after your brain until I can go after your body, too.”

 

Oh, she liked that, the dark gaze getting heavy with hunger. “You’re doing a really good job. You’re going to have to keep me, because I think I’m real close to being madly in love with you… Daddy.”

 

My heart and hormones melted.

 

++ Warrick ++

 

(2-6-02)

 

Was there any telling the Willows girls ‘no’?

 

As I skulked into the house on Lindsey’s heels, feeling like a Nickelodeon version of Mission Impossible, I knew the answer to that. All the girl had to do was give me the puppy eyes and a pretty little, “please, Uncle Warrick,” and here I was, playing along with her mad scheme. The house was darkened, despite the morning hour, and I could make out quiet, even breathing from the sofa. That must be Olivia then. Hope she wasn’t armed… Ignoring the sleeping brunette, Lindsey snuck through the house with a skill that left me feeling like I was wearing clown shoes. How did she do that?

 

Even I heard the faint squeak of the bedroom door, and a sleepy voice came from the darkness. “You’re getting better, Squirt, but that door gives you away every time.”

 

“Aw man,” Lindsey pouted and crossed her arms in a sulk that made me swallow a laugh.

 

“You’ve got company. Hey there, Warrick. I’m decent if you want to hit the light and come say hi.”

 

“Will do,” I agreed cheerfully and did as she asked. Blinking in the soft light from the bedside lamp, Dace yawned and smiled at Lindsey, who immediately forgot her sulk. “Junior Willows here persuaded me to be her accomplice in crime.”

 

“Oh?” Now the tall blonde sounded as curious as she was amused. “Do tell.”

 

Jumping onto the foot of the bed, trying not to bounce it too much, Lindsey cackled, “we’re kidnapping you!”

 

“Good gracious,” Dace said melodramatically, making a mockingly horrified face. “Whatever shall I do?”

 

“Come along quietly,” Lindsey said in a cartoon villain voice. “And no one gets hurt.” That finally got Dace to laugh, and I let my grin out. “You said that you were sick of your clothes, you’d been wearing them so long, so I called Anastasia and she said that we could kidnap Tessa too, and I bet that Liv will come, ‘cause I bet she’s sick of what’s in that little suitcase too, and…”

 

“Wait!” Dace laughed and held up a hand. “Take a breath, Linds. You called Anastasia?”

 

“Sure! She’s really cool, and thought that shopping was a great idea. Hey, she’s the one that told me she was a powerful lady, so I’m guessing that comes with a bank account too.” The girl grinned winningly. “If you’re going to be the sidekick to a couple of grand ladies, you better look the part, huh?”

 

Giving me a wry look, Dace asked, “I’m in bigger trouble than I thought, here, aren’t I?”

 

That only made me laugh.

 

++ Tessa ++

 

The outer office of the inner sanctum of the House of Hearts was my domain. As much as my beloved Anastasia was the heartbeat of the empire, she couldn’t do it without me. Because I craved no power, I was the perfect vessel to wield so much of it.

 

It had been a perfectly ordinary day so far, and my stomach was whining for some lunch. Right on cue, the door swung open, and a child’s voice called out, “this is a stick-up! Everybody freeze!” Laughing like a hyena, Lindsey swept into the room, holding her index finger like a gun. “Come along quietly, and no one gets hurt.”

 

What on earth did a sane person say to that? Before I could come up with something, the child was pushed into the room by a handsome black man. “You must be Tessa,” he smiled charmingly and offered me a hand. “I’m Warrick Brown, accomplice in kidnap lunch and shopping along with Junior Willows here.”

 

Delighted clapping pulled all of our eyes to Anastasia’s door, where she was grinning in delight. “Brava, Lindsey. You were absolutely correct that the look on her face was, indeed, priceless.”

 

This seemed like a very good time to keep my mouth shut and wait for an explanation. But then I would be rude to our guest, and that would be unacceptable. Warrick Brown had already retracted his hand while the girls teased me, and I stood now and echoed his earlier gesture. “Tessa Samuels, pleased to meet you.”

 

His handshake was firm and gentle, matching the smile on his face. “Likewise. You come with high marks from Lindsey here.”

 

That pleased me and I smiled at the child. “Good. I like her too.” Then I reran the recent events and gave him a puzzled look. “Kidnap lunch and shopping?”

 

Chuckling, Anastasia stepped over to kiss me warmly on the cheek before gathering up a few files I’d had waiting for her on my desk and retreating. “Ta-ta now, have fun!”

 

“Goodbye, Anastasia!” Lindsey called and grabbed a hand from both Warrick and I, tugging, barely giving me a chance to grab my purse. “Come on, Dace’ll think that the guards ate us or something.”

 

Dace?

 

Whoo boy…

 

++ Warrick ++

 

“Or something,” I chuckled and allowed Lindsey to pull me from the room, bumping shoulders with the lovely Tessa. Damn shame she was taken, because the woman was fine. “From what I understand, Dace is unhappy with the few outfits she’s been stuck with for so long.”

 

“And some of them are really hard to get in and out of, and half she can’t wear at all,” Lindsey chimed in. “So I called Anastasia, ‘cause I know that Dace’ll be working for her and they go way back, and maybe she could help with some clothes and stuff.”

 

Tessa was nodding thoughtfully. “That was a nice gesture, Lindsey, but why drag me along?”

 

“’Cause you’re a great dresser, and you’re tall and gorgeous, and Dace likes you and you should hang out since you’re gonna be working together all the time. Besides, dressing up will give mom a thrill.”

 

Both of us grown-ups had to twitter at that.

 

At the car, Dace peeled open a lazy eye and smiled warmly at Tessa. “I see they got you too.” 

 

Lindsey merely cackled madly as she climbed into the front seat, leaving Tessa to hang out with Dace in the back. “Where too?” I asked of the dark-haired beauty. “You’ve got a better idea of what we can spend and where.”

 

Thoughtfully, Tessa contemplated that as I started up the Tahoe. “Caesar’s Palace,” was the unexpected answer and she shrugged. “If we’re going to make this a day out, let’s do it right.” 

 

Lindsey made a face. “Isn’t that gonna be kinda expensive?”

 

Both Dace and I chuckled at the mysterious, playful grin Tessa tossed the child. “Don’t you worry about the money. Both your lovely mother and the Lady Anastasia will appreciate proper finery on the lioness here.”

 

“Ah-yep,” Dace grinned.

 

++ Dace ++

 

It was a lovely afternoon of relaxed clothes shopping, fine food and terrific company. Similar in build to me, and with a proper femme’s perfect eye for clothing, Tessa ensured that I made off with some classy, loose fitting shirts and a few pairs of pants. We found a casual clothing store where I forced my new playmate to try on and even buy a few pairs of jeans, and a great skater boy t-shirt that read ‘sinful’ in graffiti lettering, which cracked the two natives up. Every time that I started to feel tired, Lindsey somehow found something to do where I could sit for a while and rest. Even if she had to charm someone out of their chair. With her wiles and my war wounds, no one put up much of a fight. Warrick was a riot, entertaining and somehow paternal to Lindsey, without smothering the girl. He kept an eye out on me too, without making me feel like I had a nurse along. Tessa wanted to fuss a bit, but was still too afraid of me to push it.

 

When Catherine and Sara melted from the crowd with the rest of their shift and Greg Sanders in tow, the day got even better. Squealing, Lindsey jumped on her mom and showed off the pretty sweater that Tessa picked out. It was our little secret from both Willows just how much the thing had cost. Then I got a long, loving kiss that made me forget my aches and pains. “Missed you,” I breathed, feeling a million times better just in her presence.

 

“Missed you too. This color is stunning on you, I can hardly wait to see the rest of the goodies.”

 

“I’ve always loved this color,” I grinned, smoothing my hand over the whisper-thin silk shirt dyed a shocking electric blue. “But it took Tessa’s experienced eye to find exactly the right shade.”

 

Smiling demurely, Tessa shrugged, “I’m more accustomed to reds, but I did my best.”

 

“There’s a red one too. It oughta knock the boss lady’s socks off. We had a lovely and productive day.”

 

“Ours was productive,” Catherine sighed, rolling her eyes. “But I wouldn’t say it was lovely.”

 

Crooking a finger at Sara to get her to bend over to me, I stole a quick kiss before pressing her into a seat nearby. Then Lindsey wedged herself into the small space between her mom and I, and all was right with the world. “Oh, I dunno, it seems pretty lovely from here.”

 

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Rocky Mountain High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check back in with the families in Colorado. Emily fills in some blanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13, beware of warm fuzzies.
> 
> Pairings: Art/Sam/Janet. Karen/Darya.
> 
> Disclaimer: “Stargate SG-1”, All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

++ Janet ++

 

(2-9-02)

 

Our family had gotten a wonderful and totally unexpected present for Christmas. Art had pulled out her favorite holiday albums and the sweet sounds of Amy Grant filled our house. Of course, my love added her own voice to the recordings, as she danced about with decorations and the kids. Then the damnest thing happened.

 

Fawn started to sing along.

 

With a stunning grace, clarity and depth, our daughter, not quite two, manifested a talent I hadn’t dared think would be passed on. Art had a gorgeous voice, rich and resonant as only a natural gift can be. Fawn’s ‘little silver flute of a voice’, Art’s words, not mine, was a perfect and completely startling harmony to her father’s deeper tones. We were all delighted, but none more so than father and daughter. Fawn was so much my child, that it was often hard to believe that she was really Art’s daughter at all. But, in the sweet strains of Amy Grant’s ‘The Night Before Christmas’, my girls found a connection that none of us shared. There was a singular bond now, and it was a powerful one.

 

Even now, I could hear they two of them trying to master the complexities of ‘That’s What Love Is For’. Amy Grant had ruled our collective lives for nearly two months now. If not for Fawn and Art’s delight in their new hobby, I would have broken every one of those damn albums. 

 

Sam chuckled at my expression, never looking up from whatever book and a half she was pouring over at the kitchen table. It sure wasn’t astrophysics that was amusing her. Teasing blue eyes peered at me from beneath feathery blonde hair and, for the millionth time, I felt my breath catch. It was a formidable weapon, that teasing, shy look that Sam was so damn good at. Just as they had been before, my pregnancy hormones made me horny. Not a little bit either. It seemed the fire in my groin and nipples and every muscle in my body was never more than banked just a bit. 

 

I only behaved myself and didn’t jump on Sam right there in the kitchen because Cubby chose that exact moment to toddle into the kitchen. “Mama, look,” he exclaimed proudly and held up a battered drawing I recognized immediately as Cooper’s wise old face. It didn’t matter that the portrait was in sloppy crayon, I knew. Behind my boy was the dog in question. Cooper was never far from one twin or the other. Like a guardian angel, the big German Shepherd watched over them with endless patience and devotion. As I scooped up Cubby to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over the picture, I patted my belly in encouragement to Cooper.

 

Cooper had been my shadow before the twins were born, always getting underfoot so that he could press his big head against the slowly growing swell of the babies. Sighing happily, he did that again, and we were both comforted by the contact. At nearly four and a half months, I was only just beginning to show, but Cooper had known the day I walked in after our mission back to the ‘recreation’ planet. Karen and Art had gone through the machine to change them to men, and once again passed on a unique genetic legacy. 

 

Sam and Darya were also happily pregnant.

 

++ Karen ++

 

It was a quiet Saturday with just the three of us holed up at home against the bitter February chill. Darya hummed happily, and woefully out of tune, bless her, in the kitchen. Emily had completely taken over the space in front of the hearth, happily drawing to the flickering firelight. It was her favorite spot in the entire house, much to Sam’s delight. Butchie slept the sleep of the just and clueless, all for legs in the air, paws twitching as she dreamed innocent doggie dreams. We had rented Sam’s cute little house from her once the relationships we enjoyed became permanent, and really liked its sweet charm.

 

Even as both Dare and I knew that our growing family would be too much for its two little bedrooms. Cozy for three and the big dog, but would be crowded with babies on the way. As though conjured up from my thoughts, I felt Dare’s warmth press into my skull as she leaned over to offer me a glass of something. “You look awful pensive for a crossword, sweetie,” was her soft tease. The green eyes bordering gray were my home and my heart. For the millionth time since meeting the woman, I found myself grinning helplessly. “Looks like it’s contagious.”

 

Sure enough, Emily was frozen, crayon still poised above her sketchpad, her blue eyes trained on the cheery blaze in the fireplace. It was kind of cute, except for the strange stillness to her. A memory nagged me, a thought just out of my reach that suddenly seemed very important.

 

“Emily?” I asked gently, gesturing a puzzled Darya to remain silent. “What is it?”

 

There was no response as the child reached out for something we adults could not see. That near-alarm pricked at me again and Dare picked up on my nerves, a frown gathering between her brows.

 

“Dace,” I breathed without even realizing it and the sound of my voice nearly startled me. Emily’s gaze swung to us, the movement smooth and feline, with none of her usual growing-girl clumsiness. For long heartbeats her eyes seemed to glow a stranger, wilder blue than her usual summer-sky gaze.

 

The sudden knock at the door made all three of us jump.

 

++ Dace ++

 

Something pulled at me, and Liv grumbled half-heartedly at the fringes of my awareness. Catherine could feel it too, that strange pulse of the familiar so near now. I’d felt the phantom touch of connection before, from Snake-Eyes, and from Lindsey.

 

I didn’t even meet Karen’s startled gaze, casting my searching eyes lower. And there she was. The other girl cub who called to me so strongly. Bright, bright blue eyes, a spot of summer in the dead of winter, blazed up at me in awe. Ignoring my war wounds, I knelt, and those summer eyes followed me in eloquent silence. This was the cub who had first called my cat, and she purred and kitty-talked happily to the answering flash of feral blue in Emily’s gaze.

 

“You came,” Emily whispered softly and was suddenly just my little niece. Helplessly, I grinned with all the love I had felt for her for so long.

 

“I promised, didn’t I?”

 

It was an eloquent moment between us, and her smile was perfect understanding. With a knowledge not from the entirely human part of her brain, Emily knew exactly where to put her small hands, where to tuck her solid little body against me so that she caused me no pain. We hugged like we had always known one another. Which, in a way, we always had.

 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Liv finally groused fondly and strong hands were suddenly grabbing me in the places where they would cause the least hurt. I groaned in dull pain, despite their care, and the Coyote whined reassurance, echoed in Catherine’s beautiful eyes.

 

“Just think how nice it will be when the pain goes away,” my mate smiled at me and I chuckled despite myself. Then Liv lightly shoved us both and we finally stopped letting all the warmth out of the cozy house.

 

And I came up face to face, nearly nose to nose, with a sparkling pair of smoky green eyes, framed in a face I knew well from photos. In that instant, I knew exactly where Emily had gotten her unique heritage from. Once again, I found myself grinning helplessly at a stranger who was anything but strange to me.

 

++ Darya ++

 

The electric buzz of connection was like ozone and the thick, sweltering heat of the jungle. Suddenly, I understood things about my daughter, and myself, because I could see them reflected in the crystalline sky-blue gaze of this woman. The smile spread across her face like the bright rays of the awakening dawn, and I was struck by the power of her. No wonder she charmed wherever she went.

 

“Dace,” I greeted her softly, and that smile warmed even further into sheer delight. Beneath that single-minded regard, I felt like the most important person in her world in that moment. “You are every inch the charmer I imagined you to be.”

 

The hug would have taken me off guard, if I had not understood as well as I suddenly did. Things Karen told me about this woman and things about myself and Emily and my sister fell into place as I carefully squeezed her too-slender body. 

 

“God damn, but it’s good to finally hug you,” she whispered and I chuckled. Then she sheepishly let me go a bit and grinned idiotically at her quiet companions, one light and one dark. “My packmates,” Dace explained with quiet adoration, gesturing with her chin at one then the other. “Catherine Willows and Olivia Benson. This is Darya Farazell, guys, Karen’s wife.”

 

“Unca Dace,” came a protest near our hips that earned chuckles at the outraged imperiousness of the tone. “Me too.”

 

“Sorry, baby. And this Emily Farazell-Taylor.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Liv-yuh,” Emily said to Olivia, who grinned in the way people do who are naturals with kids, and warmly shook the little hand.

 

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Emily. Why don’t you call me Liv? All my friends call me Liv.”

 

That earned points with my four and a half year old, who beamed winningly. Then she turned her attention at the small blonde woman at Dace’s back. Stilling, Emily cocked her head and studied Catherine Willows with a strange intensity. Before I could ask a question, Dace squeezed my waist and breathed a near-inaudible ‘shhh’.

 

++ Emily ++

 

Mommy kind of knew. And Aun’ Davie. Sometimes there was more to the world than just what everybody could see an’ smell and stuff. But only kinda knew. Unca Dace knew, really knew. And now that there was a grown-up that knew, then I could be different and mommy and Kryn would know, ‘cause Unca Dace would tell them. I just knew she would, and everything would be okay.

 

But there was somethin’… diff’rent about this lady. She was Unca Sam and Unca Dace’s colors, but she smiled like she was a mommy too. 

 

See, I liked kitties, ‘cause I understood them. The way their fur was soft, and they could catch a string, no matter how fast I pulled it. They could stare like they saw more’n we did, we big, clumsy people. But this lady was different, but kinda the same.

 

There was somethin’ close by, like Fawn when she hid at a corner to try and scare me by jumping out. She never did scare me, but she kept trying. Somethin’ smelled close and kinda like I knew it, and the lady crouched, and there was a somethin’ in her smile that made me smile too. She smiled like there was a good joke only just us two knew. But it was a nice joke, not the kind that hurt, that made people cry and smell like they hurt on the inside. I wann’ed to purr, like Jafna when she was really, really happy, and somethin’ laughed in the lady’s eyes.

 

When it was really quiet at night, I could hear the c’yotes singing far, far away. It was a spooky sound, but not a scary one. I never told mommy, but I saw one once, sniffing the sky while mommy played with the ATM. It looked at me with cornbread-gold eyes that laughed just like this new lady.

 

My purr liked her, same as I liked Fawn, who was a shadowy secret, and this lady was sunshine. Bet she knew why I liked Fawn so much, because Fawn was always part of my purr, just like this c’yote was part of Unca Dace’s purr.

 

And we were never, ever alone.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

Since all of this had started with meeting Dace’s eyes in that provocative hold back in Chicago, I had been bewildered by it. There had been no time to study the strange phenomenon of Dace’s powers, and exactly what role I played in them. Oh sure, I knew the effect, but that wasn’t good science. It was obviously genetically related, as proven by Lindsey, and the green-eyed brunette standing with Dace’s arm thrown lazily over her shoulders. 

 

Now, there was another one, another girl-child whose eyes burned with curiosity. This child would care even less than my Lindsey, several years older, how the hell her powers worked. She would need a gentle guide. The spotted Lion cub watched me crouch before her, that bright gaze never wavering. Long moments passed while she processed me, and the happily whining Coyote presence in my mind. Then Emily grinned brilliantly as though I had answered a hugely puzzling riddle that had been bugging her for a long time.

 

“You are like Fawn. Now you can help mommy and Kryn unner’stand. Do you like apple juice?” The abrupt change in topic didn’t phase me, and I grinned back. 

 

“I love apple juice, thank you, Emily.”

 

Approval and adoration radiated out from Dace, and it deepened my smile. It was so extraordinary to no longer be alone inside my own skin. How I survived as long as I had was amazing to me. Olivia’s low, coaxing tones resulted in relief from my mate. By the sounds, they were all sitting down, Karen’s soothing voice rumbling softly to Dace. Emily was chattering and, now that Dace was resting, I could pay closer attention. Then something in her rambling caught my ear, and Emily turned to me proudly with a perfectly poured glass of juice. “Here you are.”

 

“Thank you Emily. Have you always been able to hear Fawn?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Indulge a silly grown up, but what exactly is ‘always’?”

 

That look of skeptical ‘duh’ on a child’s face was the best mix of endearing and annoying. “Always,” Emily repeated somewhat helplessly and a lifetime of well-honed interrogation skills held my tongue. The bright blue eyes unfocused as Emily cast back into her memories and then her expression cleared with a satisfied smile. “When Nanet’s tummy was just starting to get tight and bump out.” Now she wore the need for my approval all over her honest little face. Still a bit stunned from the unexpected information, I let my best ‘mom’ smile slowly warm my face and she preened.

 

“That’s exactly what I wanted to know. Thank you, Emily.”

 

++ Monica ++

 

Lindsey was nervous. She was trying to hide it, but she was as jumpy as a cat. 

 

The irony of the choice of words didn’t escape me.

 

During the long ride from Las Vegas, the girl had stuck close to her mom and Dace, but had made an effort to befriend the rest of us. Only a couple of months into her eighth year, Lindsey was at an age where she was starting to take a more active curiosity in the larger world around her. Her interrogation techniques were good, no doubt a gift she’d inherited from her mother. First Liv had been the target of that sharp mind, then me, then Dana. Knowing her background, we’d all been more frank with her than we would have been with your average eight year old. 

 

The door snicking open made us all jump, relieved to see Catherine’s smiling face. “Hey, sweetie,” she grinned at Lindsey, who jumped on her. “Ready to make a new friend? C’mon g-women, I think you’re going to get a kick out of this.”

 

Curious, I gestured Dana out of the bus ahead of me, killed the engine and pocketed the keys. The cold made me squeak for mercy, the icy wind cutting through my leather coat like it was cotton. “Just like back home,” Dana grinned wryly, that magnificent hair whipping around her face.

 

“Screw that,” I grumbled and minced to the door like a cat with tape on her paws. “Give me hot any day of the week.”

 

The bantering was forgotten as I stepped over the threshold and was brought up short by the fascinating tableau within. 

 

Meeting Dace had been possibly the single greatest thrill of my life. She was living proof that there was more to our species than just what met the eye. The vision of the enormous golden cougar lay like celluloid over her tall body, one entity, yet two. I’d seen the same thing in Lindsey, fainter, less distinct, the gangly, half-grown spotted cub, not entirely sure of herself or what was going on around her.

 

Now, I saw the small, red-headed girl, staring in fascination at Lindsey, the image of the fat-bellied lion cub superimposed over her, clear as day. Something in that brief snapshot in time, the three females both human and feline, all various ages, solidified my future.

 

There were many of these gifted Sentinels.

 

Someone was going to need to take care of them.

 

That someone was going to be me.

 

++ Lindsey ++

 

Meeting Dace shocked me. Because it meant that I wasn’t making it up. There really was a cat that lived in my head, and sometimes made me see and hear and smell things that normal little girls couldn’t. Until Dace, I felt weird, out of place, like I didn’t belong with normal people. So I hid the cat, pretended she didn’t exist.

 

Well, I tried to.

 

In the week and a half since Dace had come to Las Vegas, I had learned so much, my head thought it was gonna explode. All the smells! And the sounds! 

 

Most important, was that she taught me that I wasn’t alone. That was the best part. And she made mommy and daddy play nice. I don’t know exactly what she said to daddy, but he made a face that was almost scared and his smell got real funny after Dace talked to him away from everybody else.

 

Right this minute, I was looking at another cub. She was littler than me, and redder, and her spots were different. Her tail was shorter, and stiffer, and her belly round, and she made a little noise that sounded like a baby saying, ‘ow.’ It was funny, and I grinned, making the other cub grin too, and then I could see the people part of her, the red hair and blue eyes.

 

“Lindsey,” mom was saying as she knelt, putting an arm around me. “This is Emily. She’s like you and Dace, but I think you know that already.”

 

I was sniffing at the air, tasting the smells here. Two grown-up women, one that her smell I sorta recognized. It was a people-smell that mom had on her when she came back from Chicago, missing Dace so bad.

 

“Emily,” mom said to the other cub. “This is my daughter, Lindsey.”

 

“You are a kitty like Unca Dace!” Emily squealed happily, and I relaxed, not even knowing that I had been all tightened up. A new friend would be the best!

 

++ Art ++

 

A sharp knock on the door startled me from my rough-housing with the four dogs, but a glance at Fawn confirmed that it was Emily and her entourage. Why the hell weren’t Dare and Karen just walking in? They practically lived here anyway. Then Butchie whined in confusion and my scalp prickled. It wasn’t a threat exactly, but something weird was going on. Fawn rolled her eyes in exasperation and toddled off to the door. “ _Babas_ ,” she demanded imperiously and pushed her whole little weight against the solid wood. “Open.”

 

“Hey,” Karen’s voice carried through the wood. “We’re dyin’ out here.”

 

Scooping up Fawn, I yanked open the door, and was rocked back by the force of the icy wind that roared in. “ _Theh-mou_! What the  hell are you doing out in this cold?”

 

“Came to see you,” came a totally unknown, yet vaguely familiar voice as the tall figure on my doorstep stepped inside. There were more figures behind the owner of the sweetly sensual woman’s voice. Then the heavy, knit cap I recognized as Karen’s favorite was pulled away to reveal a spiky head of pale hair and a horribly bruised face.

 

It wasn’t the shadowy contusions that caught my attention, it was the sparkling blue eyes wrapped in red instead of white. Some fuzzy memory bubbled up. The owner of those eyes flirting with Sam, so inebriated as to be a danger to herself. Karen stepping up to the stranger and echoing the warm grin intensified the memories. They had saved me and Sam from goddess-only-knew what fate in one of the seedier sections of Denver that night so damn long ago. The drunken binge that had led Sam to do more than just share the bed with Janet and I.

 

Their grins deepened as my chest, throat and face grew warm. Dimly, I was aware of Fawn’s curious look, when she could pull her gaze away from the blonde. Looking past the damage done to her face, I finally recognized the much vaunted Dace.

 

“That look was worth the drive over,” the woman chuckled throatily, a strangely feline sound, and the dogs whined again, the sounds almost growls. Fawn and I caught our breath in tandem as the most extraordinary change came over Dace.

 

It only lasted the briefest of moments. A flash of something wild, dangerous and both threatening and threatened flickered in the blue, like gold sunshine on water. Fawn let out a soft sound that was a non-verbal equivalent to ‘ooo, neat’. 

 

Then one of the crowd with the big women jostled from behind, shifting them, and Dace winced in stark agony. 

 

++ Karen ++

 

Not understanding why the dogs were acting vaguely threatened, Art nonetheless responded to Dace’s obvious pain and snapped into action. With no further explanation or introduction, Art mustered the whole crowd of us, tossing Fawn into my arms and gently herding Dace into the living room. The toddler ignored me completely, sitting with uncharacteristic passivity in my arms, while her busy eyes were torn between Dace and where Catherine held a shy Lindsey in her arms.

 

I was starting to really see it. The strange connections between these females of such divergent ages and backgrounds. I didn’t understand it, but I was finally beginning to really see it. The bond that Fawn and Emily shared was echoed in these grown women. I crouched down to set Fawn on my knee and pulled Emily close with my other arm, tucking my head down between theirs. “That tall, blonde lady is my sister, Dace,” I explained quietly, knowing they were listening, even if their eyes were watching the subject at hand. “She’s like Emily. So is the blonde girl, her name is Lindsey. And the other blonde lady over there?” Blue eyes and brown obediently moved to where Catherine hovered anxiously. “That’s Catherine. She’s like you, Fawn. They found each other just a few weeks ago.”

 

The girls looked up at me in surprise, their minds working furiously, gazing at one another, then the elder pair, and back to me. They had never been apart, and the idea that they might have been was a tough one to grasp. 

 

Then Fawn’s little face screwed up in concentration and determination, and she squirmed away. This was the Fawn we all knew, her baby stride full of concentration and determination. Catherine jumped at the imperious yank at her pant leg. Blue eyes flickered from the toddler at her leg, to where Emily watched avidly from her protected place in the circle of my arm.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

Startled but not surprised by the child at my leg, I shifted Lindsey’s weight and crouched down to get closer to the toddler’s eye level and really take her in. She was a gorgeous girl, with a playful tangle of glossy black curls, an expressive face and soulful, earthy eyes. Tiny hands came to rest on my collarbones as the girl stared with laser intensity into my eyes, the fathomless stare flickering from me to Lindsey and back and forth. There was a puzzle being turned over and over in her toddler brain, and I suspected I knew what it was.

 

This little baby kit of a Fox, all soft inky fur and bushy tail, was the half to Emily as I was to Dace. A grin spread slowly over my face, an altogether mythological Coyote expression. “Emily’s lucky to have you, young Fox.”

 

It was profound to look into the dark eyes as they turned inward. A yip sounded faintly in the mindscape I associated with the Sentinel and Guide parts of us. A stuttering, undulating cry that made me grin wider in the homecoming of the call. The girl mouthed the word in wonder, tasting it for the first time, making it hers. 

 

And in my pale eyes, she saw herself reflected, staring in wonder at how the Coyote saw her. Crafty and secretive and quick, she would grow into all of the strengths of cunning Fox. 

 

++ Janet ++

 

What a strange day it had been. Fawn and Emily were sound asleep, curled against Dace’s uninjured side with Lindsey. The tall woman had that left arm looped around them protectively while she slept like the dead. Cubby slept in a loose sprawl at his sister’s feet, both included and forever apart. 

 

I knew how that felt.

 

An achingly familiar presence filled my kitchen, barely disturbing my vigil of my winter-stark backyard as it darkened in the deepening dusk. “I know every mother wants her child to be extraordinary, but I feel very out of my depth.” With a sigh, I turned and met Darya’s kind eyes. “Guess you feel the same, huh?”

 

“Quite,” Dare grinned and quietly went for the tea paraphernalia. Exhausted, I found myself at the table, my spiraling thoughts not quieting until a steaming mug was placed under my nose. Together we sat in the kind of companionable quiet that takes a lifetime to get. When Dare did finally speak, her voice was quiet, distant with a definite note of bittersweet. “I always knew that Emily was special. Even in the womb, I seemed so… aware of her, for lack of a better word.” Her mouth quirked in a smile that showed both love and a pain that would never quite heal. “Em would grin and agree with me.” The distant gaze refocused and the faint smile deepened into honest warmth. “But she was humoring me.”

 

That got me thinking, and my mind went to Zo. Something that had been bugging me abruptly clicked into place. Darya’s expression turned quizzical at the expression of wonder that I could feel spread across my face. “ _Theh-mou_ , Dare. It wasn’t me that Fawn got it from. It was Art.”

 

Right on cue, there was a burst of laughter from outside, punctuated by the dog’s collective howling. I instinctively knew that my sweet _ahndras_ was in the middle of all of that energy.

 

“It’s passed on through rare genetics and manifests in certain personality types.”

 

“Like Art’s?” Dare asked in amused understanding.

 

“Actually, Zo popped into my head first.”

 

That made the shrink lapse into a thoughtful silence.

 

++ Darya ++

 

It made perfect sense, and explained some of the Goldston charm. Zo’s boundless energy and personality in particular. If the Sentinels were raw, animal charisma, then the Guides were the more ‘civilized’ side of that equation. “Maybe the tribes that evolved these Sentinels found them a little threatening,” I mused more to myself than Janet. “And that’s where the Guides came from? As a bridge between their Sentinels and everyone else? In addition to keeping the animal senses from becoming overwhelming.”

 

“Sort of a human barometer?”

 

Startled, both Janet and I looked up to see that Art had soundlessly entered the kitchen. The look on her face made even my heart clench. A pure, sweet understanding softened her features, and the selfless adoration for my old pal made me feel like an intruder. Briefly, that soulful look turned to me as a soft gasp escaped Janet. For once, that look wasn’t shuttered for my benefit, and the power flowed over me like the tide. 

 

“Would you like to talk to Zo?”

 

“Zo?”

 

Sure enough, there was a tiny cell phone in Art’s hand. Rattled by that full-force Goldston power of personality, I took the device and retreated. Thank goodness the other one was half a continent away! Both of them together was a little intimidating to my sensitivities. “Hey Zo, how have you been?”

 

“Dare! Howdy. We’re still piecing the club here back together, but the crowds have calmed into something almost normal. How’re the buns?”

 

It took a moment to decipher, but then a laugh bubbled up. “The new twins are cooking along just fine. Janet and I were just talking about you, actually.”

 

“Really? That must be why I had the sudden urge to call.” From anyone else the statement would have made me roll my eyes, at least internally. But Zo did have a gift of coincidence.

 

“Yes. Turns out Emily is like Dace. I’ve suspected it for some time, particularly after she and Fawn woke up screaming at the same time Dace was hurt. They’re curled up with her on the couch in the other room, happy as well-fed little cubs.” There was an uncharacteristic quiet on the other end that made me curious. “Zo?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, spaced out on you there for a moment. Yeah, Catherine’s kid had the same reaction. Jamie wasn’t exactly settled when Jo got home, either.”

 

“Jamie?”

 

“Daughter of Dace’s case partner while she was here chasing Snake-Eyes. Ask Olivia about her.”

 

“I’ll do that.”

 

++ Art ++

 

After tenderly soothing Janet’s frayed nerves, I gently managed to get Dace and the kids upright long enough to get the sofa bed pulled out and all of them safely prone and relaxed. Catherine padded in to curl up in the section of couch that didn’t fold out. “The others will sleep in the bus. There’s a generator that will keep them warm.”

 

“Okay,” I agreed and gave my kids and Emily a quick pat before leaving them with their new hero. Looking at the way that undamaged arm curled so protectively around the kids, kinda made her my hero too.

 

Sam was out for a fun weekend with Cassie, but they would be back tomorrow. With Dace looking so exhausted, it was certain that Janet would insist that our unexpected guests would be staying for a few days for some R&R. Karen’s almost soundless tread made me turn as she stepped in close. “Are they okay there?”

 

“Sure. It’s a surprisingly comfy bed. Shouldn’t have any weird pressure points for your sib. The kids will find you if they need you. I’ll leave the door open upstairs in case they holler. But I doubt it.”

 

“Yeah, me too. G’nite Art.”

 

“Nite Karen.”

 

A quick check that the visiting medical bus/RV was plugged in and humming happily, a potty break for the dogs, and I was climbing the stairs to join my beloved wife in our bed.

 

(2-10-02)

 

It was fun to cook for such a crowd, even though I still missed Sam and Cassie in the throng. Lucky and Cooper waited patiently while I took a break from human food, but the pups and Starjumper whined softly. They didn’t normally do it, but were stressed by so many strangers, so I didn’t discipline them this time. With food measured out and distributed in each dish, I went in search of Jaffa. Sure enough, she had managed to find the pile in the living room, her burnished gold body dark counterpoint to Dace’s hair and the little white strips of tape on her bruised head. Human and kitty alike woke blearily as I collected the later in gentle hands. “He-ey,” I grinned at our damaged guest. “Gotta pee?” 

 

It was a good guess, as Dace’s face screwed up uncomfortably. “Yeah, actually. God, I haven’t slept that soundly in ages.” A humorless smirk ghosted over her face briefly. “Not without painkillers anyway. Your pack of youngsters here are good medicine.”

 

“That they are. You get your circulation up to snuff while I feed the kitty real quick. Back in a flash.” Still yawning and purring like a jackhammer, I deposited Jaffa in her usual spot with fresh water and kibble. A quick brush over her spine, and I was back to help Dace to unsteady feet. The kids woke with grumbles as the bed shifted and Dace’s warmth moved away. Catherine was up in a flash, supporting Dace’s hurt side. Good, I didn’t want to get anywhere near there. Once up, the tall woman grinned warmly at me, and I was struck by the power on her personality. Yep, this one was dangerous.

 

“Thanks Art.”

 

“My pleasure. Second door on the right down that hall. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

So I turned to the kids and leaned down to snuggle into the pile for a moment. “ _Kahlee mehra, ta pay-dhiah._ ( _Good morning, children_.)”

 

“ _Kahlee mehra, bahbas._ ”

 

++ Darya ++

 

Yawning, I trooped into the kitchen after nearly colliding with Dace and Catherine in the hall. Janet grinned at me where she was puttering at the stove, and I sniffed appreciatively at the lovely scents of breakfast. 

 

“Make yourself useful woman,” she ordered good-naturedly, “and set the table.”

 

Still yawning, I stole a long drink from Janet’s coffee, earning a smack, and did as ordered. The bulk of the babies pressed into the counter made me grin. So far, I was the only one showing, even though both Sam and Janet were putting on some pregnancy weight. There was such good magic in this house.

 

“So, I was thinking about doing something different with this pregnancy,” I brought up casually to Janet, who hummed that she was listening. “Thought I’d get your two cents.”

 

“Sure, fire away.” Suddenly, the phone trilled urgently, earning a scowl from Janet. “Dammit, my hands are full. Art!”

 

“Covered in rug rats!” Was the shouted reply from the living room.

 

“I’ll get it,” I chuckled, plucking up the receiver. “Fraiser household.”

 

“Dare!” Crowed a familiar voice. “Just the person I was looking for.”

 

“Gee Zo, long time no hear.”

 

“Hey, you’re not gonna believe this, but my pal Doctor Joan does water births. Isn’t that cool? I figured that water would be a relaxing way to give birth, you oughta see if you can persuade Sam and Janet to do the same. Joan could probably be persuaded to visit for a few weeks close to your due date. Dare, are you there?”

 

Shaking my head, I marveled at the young woman’s knack for coincidence. “Funny you should mention a water birth. I was just about to bring the subject up to Janet, get her opinion.”

 

“Cool!”

 

“Tell your friend that I would love to talk to her about doing it.”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

++ Sam ++

 

As much fun as it had been hanging out with Cassie for a couple days in Denver, I was wiped out. All I really wanted was to cuddle up with Janet and/or Art and relax for awhile. This pregnancy thing was kicking my ass.

 

“What is that thing?” Cassie asked as we turned onto our street and inched down the icy pavement. It was a van or bus of some kind and was filthy with road grime.

 

“I have no idea, but it looks like it’s come a long way to be here. Guess we’ve got company.”

 

“Who’d be crazy enough to drive that thing in this weather?”

 

The answer wasn’t even something I could have made up.

 

It felt like a lifetime ago, that I had been alone. Surrounded by people and fulfilling work, I still felt as isolated as the stars with vacuum between them. Then came that woman and her dog, and the fierce healer that mended my body and then my heart. The drunken binge that led me to their arms was a turning point, and I was happier and healthier than I had been since losing my mother to accidental death. On cue, Art came out to greet me at the door, pulling my disbelieving gaze from the familiar stranger on the couch. “Yeah, I kinda felt that way too,” she smiled sweetly, shooing Cassie off so that she could pull my chin down and kiss me. The very familiarity of her touch and taste relaxed me.

 

“No more vacations without you and Janet,” I murmured softly, startled when the feline Ace of Diamonds chuckled throatily, echoed by Karen.

 

“Some things are truly priceless,” Karen commented, running a gently cupped hand over her sister’s bruised skull. The teasing somehow gave me courage, and I gave Art a quick squeeze before walking into the living room, shedding my winter layers. Still smiling that warm, knowing smile, Dace remained still as I leaned over to place a firm kiss on her quirked mouth.

 

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever got a chance to tell you that.” My sincere tone made Dace grin brilliantly, and Karen to laugh in appreciation of my audacity. It was one of the few times that I felt that I had gotten the upper hand in a round of teasing. Then I remembered something, jarred loose by the vision of these tall, powerful women together again. Giving Karen a long, intense look that made her curious, I let her own brain catch up with me. So I bent again and pressed a warm kiss just above Dace’s blue eyes, so similar to my own. Now, the woman was curious and I smiled warmly. “You missed the wedding,” I explained and heard Karen make a small sound. “Karen asked me to pass that on when I met you again.”

 

“Thanks, Sam,” Dace smiled, despite the pain in her skull, eyes happy and open. It was heartening to know that I could make her feel good.

 

++ Art ++

 

It wasn’t an easy decision, but only I could really make it. They were like my kids, the whole scruffy menagerie of them. 

 

Butchie barked wildly at her sisters, while Lucky snuck up and snapped at her, starting up a new round of rough and tumble in the heavy snow. Once the chubby litter of nine had weaned, I’d handed off the boys to Jolynne, Doc Holiday had gone to Billy and Burt, and Striker’d taken Billy the Kid. All of them were happy and healthy, and Grover and Mac seemed happy with the company of the pups that lived with them. Though they were hardly pups anymore! As I suspected the day I’d held her solid little weight for the first time, Butchie was nearly the size of her father, and still had more adolescent growing to do.

 

Jesse’s eye had never grown better, and she was just that little bit blind on her left side, so she would remain a pet, as Butchie had been to Emily for nearly a year now. Annie and Bonnie showed every evidence of the things that had made their parents such exemplary military working dogs. Even now, I could see that they were planning mischief on the other members of their family, every sense alert and focused, all threat and intelligence. 

 

Jane broke first, charging at Annie, who leapt away easily, sending Jane sprawling into the snow, snapping aggressively at her. Right on cue, a discordant howl of displeasure echoed through the backyard, and the eternal hypochondriac was completely ignored by her relatives. So, she came whining to me for reassurance, and I grabbed her in a headlock and lovingly roughed her up. “Jane, you wuss. You are never going to make any kind of police dog.”

 

Then I realized that it was true, and took that noble face in my hands to look deeply into the eyes of this beloved pup. Sensing my shift in mood, the others scrambled over to press into me with their big, furry bodies.

 

“I think,” my voice cracked around the lump in my throat. “I think, Jane, that it’s time you went to a forever home. You think that Dace would take you to that nice lady in Las Vegas that liked you so much?”

 

“Dace would be honored,” came the soft voice at the back door and we all looked over to see the tall woman standing there. The lump in my throat grew suffocating at the look of absolute sympathy on her face. She stepped over to fondle Jane’s ears, and my pup leaned trustingly into the blonde. Whatever issues they’d had with her vanished rather quickly, which pleased me. “Anastasia’s gonna have kittens,” Dace chuckled devilishly and smiled sunnily at me. “But she’ll love your girl here as much as Tessa will. If you need homes for any of them, Karen and I know some of the best people on earth who will adore them like their kids.”

 

Ruffling Jesse’s fur, knowing I had to decide whether or not she would remain part of my family, I nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

 

++ Olivia ++

 

This had been one of the most relaxing days of my life. A quiet neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, blanketed by muffling snow, a houseful of loving family with kids and dogs underfoot. At the moment, I was watching the daylight fade with only Cassie for company, Cooper happily taking most of the teen’s lap and torso.

 

“Toronto, huh?” I mused conversationally. “That’s terrible that you lost your family, but I’m glad that you found Sam and Janet.”

 

Relaxed, the pain almost a distant memory, the young woman smiled and continued to fondle Cooper’s face and ears. “Couldn’t agree with you more. You’ll have to show me around New York when I get a chance to visit.”

 

Was she flirting with me? “No can do. Shockingly, I’m leaving the Big Apple for the wilds of the City of Sin.”

 

Wrinkling her nose in a confused and faintly distasteful expression, Cassie regarded me thoughtfully. “That’s quite a change.”

 

“No more than Toronto to Colorado Springs,” I teased back and she laughed.

 

“True. Well, you’ll have to leave me a name of someone who can show me around, then.”

 

“My pleasure, Cass.”

 

“Are you sure that Dace is up to such a long drive?” The abrupt change in subject took me aback for a moment.

 

“You’re a mind-reader. No, I don’t think that Dace is up to the trip at all. But she can intimidate pretty much anyone into getting her way.”

 

An altogether devious grin warmed Cassie’s face, reminding me of watching Janet play with the babies earlier in the day. “Oh, you haven’t squared off with my mom. I’ll bet that Dace backs down. Make a call to The Lady and get Dana on your side, and I’ll bet you’ll be on a plane by tomorrow morning.”

 

And damned if the kid wasn’t dead to rights.

 

++ Dace ++

 

“You ganged up on me,” I groused at Olivia after getting off the phone with Anastasia. Sheepishly, my partner shrugged.

 

“You shouldn’t be traveling so much. And I really have got to wrap things up back home, and get to it ASAP. You stay here and enjoy your extended family until Dana drags you home. I’ll be back in Vegas before you, I’ll bet.”

 

Looping my arm around her neck, I tugged the woman in close to snuffle through her shaggy hair. “I’ll miss you, Dobie. It’ll feel weird without you at my back.”

 

“No shock. I’ve been in your back pocket for weeks now. I’ll feel weird without you too.”

 

We sat there for awhile, Liv patiently allowing herself to be held in the awkward position my hug had twisted her into. Then Catherine came into the dimly-lit living room and settled in to rest her head in my lap. “Oh,” I spoke up suddenly, remembering something. “Totally off subject. The kids helped me discover something today. They were oh-so-impressed. Watch my hand.” Curious, they both looked to my healthy left hand and I chuckled, “no, the other one.”

 

Bracing myself for the pain, I concentrated on the feeling, the twitchy ripple of movement… and was rewarded by the swollen, discolored fingers of my right hand twitching into a loose curl. Both Catherine and Liv looked even happier than I’d felt the first time the broken limb had responded to my command. “See,” said the later, squeezing my encircling left arm. “You’ll be yourself before you know it.”

 

“It’s been nearly a month, I should certainly hope that you’re getting some movement back,” Catherine commented pragmatically, oh-so-gently stroking my healing fingers. It tickled, and hurt just a bit, but I liked the sensations. Like the tingling of a blood-starved limb, it was proof that there was still life in my damaged flesh. 

 

Karen chose that moment to come clomping down the stairs, hand firmly on Emily’s hair to keep the girl from tearing down the treacherous incline. “Obviously, the nap is over,” I called out jovially, earning a chorus of ‘unca Dace’ from the kids, and a surly glower from my sis.

 

“You are so coming here and babysitting when you feel better,” Karen grumbled, obviously exhausted from the kids. Fawn squirmed to get down, and I was once again covered by the younger Sentinel pair.

 

“My pleasure,” I grinned and hugged and pet the girls as best I was able.

 

++ Catherine ++

 

It was interesting to listen to Dace try and explain to the kids what had happened to her to cause such horrible injuries. It was as if they hadn’t really cared or even noticed the bruising at first, far to fascinated with the woman herself.

 

“See, there was another man, like us, with a kitty, but he was alone and went crazy and started attacking people. When I went to help my friends in Chicago, he thought I was bad and attacked me.”

 

Eyes like saucers, the children were mesmerized, but it was pragmatic little Cubby that asked the question. “He died?”

 

When Dace hesitated, I spoke up, voice calm. “Yes Cubby, I’m afraid he died. I couldn’t let him hurt my family.” Snuggling deeper into Dace’s ribs, I held the boy’s wise gaze. Hard to believe he was barely two years old! Nodding as though he completely understood, he leaned his forehead against his twin’s shoulder and sighed heavily. Fawn looked at him peculiarly, before stroking his head with affection. Fascinating children, all three of them.

 

A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, shutting out the cold night behind sturdy walls. Janet mimicked my pose against Art’s side, with Sam’s pale head in the dark woman’s lap. Karen was on the floor, nestled between Darya’s knees, not a care in the world. Monica and Dana were sound asleep near the hearth, their twined bodies indistinguishable beneath blankets, and Olivia slept at Dace’s damaged side. Lindsey was fascinated with Cassie, and had amused all parties by dropping off in the teen’s lap. 

 

I worried about her. About her being alone, specifically. Before Dace and the cat in her heart and eyes, there had been no concern, but now she was as much a part of me as my own heartbeat. I needed her in ways that words couldn’t convey. I needed her like waves need wind and water, that trees needed sun and rain, the way predators needed prey. There was so little logic to it, a random selection of genes and an impossibly coincidental journey that brought us together so far from both of our homes. Looking back, I was no longer surprised that she had followed me south to the desert. She could no more stay away from me than the earth could leave her rotation around the sun. If we were apart, we would cease to exist. Lindsey needed someone like that, and she was out there somewhere.

 

But for now, she was satisfied with having Dace and I as her mentors, guardians and packmates. We had meshed instantly, as though we had never been apart. Even Eddie didn’t pull any crap with his daughter anymore. No more stupidity or manipulation of flaking out, she simply wouldn’t tolerate it. He knew on a level he didn’t understand, that these blonde predators were not to be fucked with. And Dace did so enjoy intimidating him that I didn’t restrain her unless he pushed his luck. 

 

++ Darya ++

 

Humankind believes that we are beyond our messy past with the ‘lesser’ beasts of the world. We try to ignore countless generations of living in the dark, fearful of hungry predators, of flashing teeth and claws. Our ancestors painted themselves in dirt, in clay, in the dung of their prey, and crept towards the creatures that would die in their traps and at the tips of their spears and arrows. The fate of humankind is written in the hot blood and thick flesh of the beasts we preyed on, and by the hunting creatures that killed all but the smartest and most cunning of us.

 

That blood and darkness is only a few heartbeats away. Anyone who has ever felt real hunger knows that fact. The primitive that drives us is the heavy heartbeat, the smell of fear in our nostrils, the cold sweat of the hunt.

 

And now, there was incontrovertible proof, right here in my living room. I was part of a legacy that was a bit intimidating in its scope.

 

As though sensing that I was getting perhaps a bit too introspective, Karen reached up from where she’d been lounging between my feet, tugging my head down to share a long kiss. “Think we can get the rugrats ready for bed?”

 

“Sure,” I smiled and we both clambered to our feet. 

 

Karen went to the happy little threesome, pulling Art out with a laughing, “c’mon _babas_. You two stay put.” Chuckling, Janet snuggled up with Sam once Art was bodily pulled away, both of them more asleep than awake anyway. “How ‘bout a real bed, Punk?”

 

Thusly addressed, Dace grinned evilly at the woman she called sister. “You got a bed here that can hold the whole scruffy lot of us?”

 

Charmed once again by the children’s fascination with this new mentor in their lives, I smiled at Dace while I tucked myself against Karen’s side, her arm firm and loving around me. “I suppose that means that you’re stuck with the hide-a-bed.”

 

“Yay!” The kids chorused, suddenly awhirl with energy.

 

Before anyone could react, Dace moaned in pain from the sudden jostling and everyone froze. “Oh, Unca Dace,” Emily whispered in horror, gripping an equally horrified Fawn to her chest. “We are sorry.”

 

Swallowing the pain, I noted that Catherine didn’t appear to be more than passingly worried and that relaxed me, Dace smiled weakly at the kids. “S’ok. But you really have to remember that you have to be really careful around me, okay?”

 

Wide-eyed, the three nodded and allowed themselves to be led off by Karen and I to get ready for bed.

 

++ Dace ++

 

(2-11-02)

 

In the wee hours of morning, after bidding a very quiet farewell to Olivia, I lay in the dark, surrounded by the pile of bodies and reviewed my life. From neglected child, to street waif, to the protégée to my lovingly harsh Mistress, to cop, to Sentinel. As a child and young teen, I had been desperate for anything even vaguely resembling family. That quest led me on the path that led me here, among these friends and children and lovers that made up my family. Well, some of them anyway, my thoughts straying to Sara and Fenris and Jo and the Amazons and now Salix and so many others. It was a long list now, people that were my family, and that old, old loneliness was mostly gone now.

 

What would my mother think? If she could see past the foolishly, stubbornly rosy glasses that she insisted seeing the world through. I couldn’t even begin to calculate the times my mother’s utter grasp of reality endangered my sanity, my health or even my life. 

 

Unbidden, the memory of our final parting came to me, the filthy lust of the latest of her many ‘true loves’ that disrupted our lives and left me feeling detached and threatened. His hands on my adolescent body, the terrifying intent in his shadowed eyes, the stench of his panting breath. Nearly naked, to terrified to fight him off, his body too big and too scary above mine, I spotted my mother at the door.

 

When she walked away from what that monster was doing to me, I went animal.

 

Nearly twenty years later, I ground my left hand into my left eye, chasing off the memories. Exactly what I did to that bastard was still a mystery to me, but I had blood on my hands and gore under my ragged fingernails.

 

Thank whatever deities that watch over fools like me, for Sylvia and the other core players of the Four Suits. They were my salvation and my strength while I figured myself out. Looking back, I could see now that it was the cat that attacked that man, then lent me her strength while I became my own person.

 

I still didn’t know exactly what the cat was, some kind of ‘spirit’, or a comprehensible expression of my extraordinary abilities, my mind’s only way of making all that was Sentinel somehow graspable to my limited mind. All of the above and much, much more? Ah well, the world had always been a bigger and more complicated place than any of us realized.

 

Stroking the silky heads of the children in my life, Lindsey, Emily, the twins, Cassie, casting a loving look over the adults that made up the rest of these complicated and wonderful relationship dynamics, I knew that these children would get a much better chance at life than I had, then many had ever gotten.

 

They were our future, and it was bright.

 

With my soul warmed by the presence of my Guide and my family, I slept easily.

 

**To Be Continued…**


	4. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia prepares to move on and return a piece of Dace to her. Alex loses out. Gloria is reunited with her childhood heroes. Michael becomes more a part of Jo's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Dace/Catherine & Sara, revisited. More 'maybe/maybe not' for Alex/Olivia.
> 
> Disclaimer: "Facts of Life", produced by Embassy Pictures Corporation and TAT Communications Company. Created by Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon.

++ Alex Cabot ++

 

(still 2-11-02)

 

"I didn't keep my promise to you."

 

For a moment, I am convinced I am hallucinating again. My desperation for Olivia has me so knotted up that I am virtually useless in all capacities. Why? Oh who the hell knows. There is only amorphorous hope in something that sparks between us every time we meet. That something is what I so desperately miss in my life.

 

Miss desperately enough to keep hearing her voice in the corridors of where our lives once overlapped. Then there is a whisper of sound, like fabric over flesh, and the scrape of shoe soles on my office floor. Awareness makes my skin tingle, and I freeze as though hunted by something large and dangerous.

 

It can't be…

 

Unwillingly, against the railing rant of the still-sane and shrinking fast part of my brain, I slowly turn away from the file cabinet that holds my banal life.

 

Olivia Benson looks just like I remember her. Strong, powerful, self-assured, personality oozing from every pore. There is new information in her dark eyes, though. A new purpose, a lightness to her body that speaks of the roots she has already pulled up from this wintry city.

 

Oh… oh no…

 

I'm too late.

 

++ Olivia ++

 

How have I never noticed how expressive she is? The shades of her eyes and the shift of her classic face is like watching Zo paint, a pleasure I'd experienced far too briefly in Chicago. Pain flashes through me that I've hurt her, even as I know there was nothing else I can do. Dace and her family are my family now too, and I need that connection more and more every day. Even this siren's call cannot snuff out the new strength of purpose I have found with once-strangers.

 

But walking away from her is going to be even harder than I thought.

 

The silence between us stretches into infinity, the noise of the legal building around us fading away. My memories play out everything I have seen so recently, the loves that had grown while I watched on. 

 

I move without thought, without thinking.

 

The huff of Alex's deep voice, her mouth hot and open against mine, her slender strength tight against my sturdier curves: in this heartbeat of time, feeling her for the second and probably last time, I know that I have waited for someone like her for a very long time. 

 

Aw damn…

 

"I promised to come home to you safe," I whisper, aching at the chasm between us. "And now I've found a home somewhere else." Reluctantly stepping away, giving up my touch on her body, I let my heart shine in my eyes. "I'm sorry."

 

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do… but walk away with my heavy heart.

 

++ Elliot Stabler ++

 

This story is not supposed to end this way.

 

Staring sightlessly at the box between my feet, I wonder when I lost my copy of the script. Lost the page where it says; 'Benson moves to Las Vegas.' 

 

I'm losing the best thing that's happened to me since Kathy and my kids.

 

A gentle hand on my shoulder jerks my thoughts back to the present, and I look up into my wife's understanding eyes. She has been my rock for so long, and will be my rock through losing Olivia as well. I try to convey my gratitude in my eyes.

 

Touching Kathy's hand and shaking off my brooding, I continue to press clear tape over the seam of the cardboard box between my knees. "You've got a lot of shit for a single woman who's never home," I comment idly, wincing when Kathy cuffs me in the head. Oops, forgot there are kids here. Grinning sheepishly at my wife, she sighs mockingly and the others laugh. After the initial shock at the one-six, we all jumped in to help get Liv packed up to start her new life. Munch is horsing around verbally with Olivia where they stand, deciding on the fate of the furniture. It's gonna suck so bad not having her around…

 

The downstairs buzzer grabs all of our attention. "Who the hell could that be?" Olivia wonders out loud and heads for her phone. "Hello? Jo! Good to hear from you. Sure, come on up." Hanging up the phone, she turns a brilliant grin on the rest of us. "Another pair of hands is coming up. This is the first I've seen of Jo since Chicago. Damn shame Dace isn't here."

 

Dace… the mystery woman who changed the heart of this die-hard New Yorker. I want to hate her, I want it so bad that I can taste it… but I can't. Something changed Olivia during that case in Chicago, and the mysterious Dace had been the catalyst. Olivia is shedding a lifetime of hurt and personal drama, and it seems the sky is the limit. There's a lightness to her step, a bright blaze in the darkness of her eyes that I have never seen with such force. Whatever happened to her, it's meant to be.

 

I'll give up the woman who has been an extension of me for three years, because I love her like I love my family. But I sure as hell won't like it.

 

Dammit.

 

++ Michael ++

 

Truthfully, I had made Jo's pursuit of me far more difficult than necessary. At the time, I think I wanted the ego-stroking of her focused attention to soothe my battered psyche. It is, coincidentally, a month since Jo and Gloria tracked me down and began to assault my fortress of solitude. The teen is a firecracker, and I plan on keeping a close eye on her to encouraging all that potential. 

 

The three of us ride the elevator quietly, my hands resting lightly at the back of their necks, the touch not proprietary, but affectionate. Both lean into me, making me feel warm and loved.

 

Olivia's expression is classic in the truest sense of the word. Eyes wide, she stares for a moment before giving me a wry grin. "You still look better than Dace." That earns my laughter and a big hug and I know that I will miss having her here in this city. 

 

"How is she doing? Tessa's been keeping the network informed, but I'd like to hear it from you."

 

Pain, hope and respect war in those dark eyes. "Better. She hurts so bad all the time, but she found Lindsey and Emily, and they're like her. And she has Catherine and she and Sara are building a bond, and the Lady likes Dace, which makes her feel good. I'll tell you, she's the strongest person I know, after what she's been through and is still smiling."

 

A slow grin twitches my face, reminding me of the fading bruises in my flesh, same as Dace. "She's always been like that. When she walked away from us, it was like losing a sibling. When she came back, I think it only reminded us how much we all adored her. It was never really a party unless that punk was there."

 

Chuckling, Liv turns her hug on Jo, and they cling tightly to each other as I herd Gloria in ahead of me. She is having trouble keeping her eyes off of Olivia, and brave-nervous, looks at the small crowd in the apartment. I know the faces and remember many of the stories, hell, John Munch is a regular client of the Spades, but I wonder if Gloria will recognize Elliot. 

 

I keep my hands resting lightly on the girl's shoulders for moral support while the detectives figure out who she is.

 

++ Gloria ++

 

Hanging out with the Archangels and Jo and Jamie and Pai and Boot has been some of the most rewarding times of my life. Pragmatic, fun and protective without being overbearing, they are probably the best crowd for me to hang with in this city that haunts me. 

 

Truthfully, I don't recognize anything about New York. After all, it's not like I was here on some kind of field trip last time, but just knowing is nerve-wracking. This is the city where I had been raped and tortured so brutally, leaving me with the haunting scars in my skin, and the even thicker ones on my mind and soul. Sure, I've recovered as well as to be expected… But I never forget. Never. Every moment awake or asleep, the memories hover at the edges of my mind. Over time, I've gotten accustomed to them, even drawing strength from them. Nightmares and phobias still get me sometimes, but I do my best to take each day as it comes and prepare for my future. 

 

Olivia's eyes skim over me without recognizing me, but I'd've been shocked if she had. There are days I hardly recognized myself, when the brutalized ten-year-old inside me is feeling particularly vulnerable.

 

Feeling nervous and a little twitchy around these strangers, I let myself be anchored by Michael's strong hands on my shoulders. There is something familiar about the big man with the military haircut, but not in a bad way. Then Jo's voice brings my attention to her as she steps over. "Gloria, you remember Olivia," Jo smiles, her arm around the taller brunette's shoulders.

 

"Never forget her," I grin back, watching the empathetic brown eyes I remember vividly. There is still no recognition, but Olivia holds out a welcoming hand I take eagerly.

 

"I'm sorry, Gloria, but I seem to be blanking," she starts to say, then her voice trails off and her eyes grow round. "Gloria…"

 

"Hi, Officer Benson," I greet her warmly, welcoming the suffocating hug I'm suddenly wrapped in. How I love these kind of big, warm embraces from people I trust.

 

"I didn't even recognize you," Olivia is saying, leaning away only far enough to study my face. "You look wonderful."

 

"The Amazons have been really good to me and Aunt Kali," I beam at this second hero of my child self. "I've been looking forward to talking to you since the Staff and Scroll in Chicago."

 

"You were at that club?"

 

Her disbelief makes me laugh. "I'll be sixteen at the end of July. There are levels of the club where I can legally work. I bus tables at the underage club, and do some janitorial work and stuff. More of my time is spent on school, I promise."

 

Mollified, Olivia hugs me again, and I sigh happily, especially when Jo adds herself to the cling by pressing herself against my back and squeezing us both.

 

++ Jo ++

 

Packing Liv up turns into an impromptu party that includes a never-ending stream of cops and easily half the large apartment building. Not to mention the many handfuls of locals, coming by with a word or a little gift for a favored keeper of the peace. Liv is as gracious as a princess; a small conversation, a hug, and many thanks for each and every one of them. At some point in the crush, Rick brings Jamie by for what will inevitably turn into a sleep-over for some of us. 

 

Alex Cabot snuck in with the setting sun, looking pale and tragic. Damn shame those two hadn't figured out what the hell their chemistry was before it was too late.

 

(2-12-02)

 

Inhaling lazily across mucous membranes gone dry, I climb blearily from sleep and look around. When the hell had I finally fallen asleep? Instantly, I look around for Jamie, relieved to see her on Olivia's mattress on the floor, curled up at my feet near Gloria. Their sweet little crush on each other cracks me up. Michael's body is sprawled across the strange, inflatable couch-bed thing that Stabler provided that has miraculously retained its basic shape and has been surprisingly comfy to sleep on. Her head is pillowed on my lap, dark hair warming my fingers where they cup around her scalp. Soft voices catch my attention and I stroke Michael's hair as I listen.

 

"Never would have pictured you going to Vegas, of all places," murmurs Stabler in a carefully neutral tone that is absolute bullshit. He's grieving his upcoming loss and trying to be so brave. Men…

 

"Yeah, I know," Liv sighs back, her conflict making my heart ache. "But it just feels right. I can't explain it. There's so much I haven't done, always using mom or my past or the job as an excuse to stay put. Suddenly, I need to see and do things I haven't seen and done, you know?"

 

"Yeah, I can understand that. New York's not going to be the same without you, though."

 

"Yeah."

 

A grumble of protest escapes me at the dryness in my throat, and I cursed my interruption as shadowy heads turned my way.

 

Dammit.

 

++ Olivia ++

 

Before I can react to Jo's small, uncomfortable sound, Elliot presses me into the battered futon that had once been my guest bed and would be charity tomorrow. "I got it. Stay with Alex."

 

Ah yes, Alex. Too wound up to sleep, I have nevertheless found a certain bittersweet peace in stroking the platinum hair feathered over my lap. It just sort of happened, one minute Alex had been chowing on pizza and beer with stiffly uncomfortable posture, then she'd started to sag like an aging helium balloon. That is how I've come to be her pillow.

 

Her breath is warming certain strategic parts of my anatomy that I'd much rather be ignoring right about now. So I cock an ear out for Elliot and Jo.

 

"What's up?"

 

"Thirsty, but I'm pinned down."

 

"Hang on." Ice cubes slosh in water as Elliot rummages in the ice chest and plastic crackles as the cap is twisted. "Here you go."

 

A sharp inhalation, lusty sucking noises that almost sounded dirty, and Jo makes a happy kitten noise. "You're a lifesaver, Stabler."

 

Morning is gray and sullen in the window. Have we been up all night talking? Sure looks like it and my eyes are burning badly enough as proof. It has been impossible to stop stroking Alex's soft hair and wonder what could have been. For the whole night, Elliot and I reminisced, retracing the relationship that has defined our partnership. More than my partner, the guy who watches my back and keeps me from going too far, this singular man is my friend. 

 

And the pale beauty in my lap is a taste of what could be… no… what could have been.

 

The melancholia that I've been fighting all night is shattered by the shrill blast of my telephone. Not a soul in my apartment doesn't jump like someone shot out a window, followed by a chorus of moans and groans. Moaning in bleary shock, Alex cradles her skull, obviously nursing a sore neck. "Hey, relax," I urge quietly, pressing her head back to my lap. "The machine'll get it."

 

Michael grumbles something that makes Jamie gasp in shock, then giggle guiltily.

 

"What did you say?" Jo asked suspiciously before squeaking in a mildly sexual kinda way. Bet she just got goosed or something similar. On the forth ring, the ancient answering machine clicks loudly, hissing out its staticy message in my barely-out-of-teens voice. "Jeezus," Jo grumbles, voice straining around a stretch. "That's the same damn message you've had since college."

 

"Hey Dobie," comes a familiar and much-missed voice. The room goes instantly quiet, all ears trained on Dace's tone. She sounds happy and sad all at once, still blurry with painkillers. "Just wanted to let you know we were headed home tomorrow afternoon and we oughta make it in early Valentines. Miss you; hope you're having a good time." A sleepy little groan tinnily echoes through the speaker, making me grin.

 

"Miss you, Liv," Lindsey adds sleepily, her voice barely close enough to the speaker to be heard. Dace's throaty, distinctively feline chuckle warms my apartment for a moment, almost close enough to touch, and I'm shocked to realize just how much I miss all of them.

 

++ Alex ++

 

Olivia doesn't have to say it. The gentle smile on her beautiful face is enough. That voice… if had to be her. Since I can't bring myself to hate Olivia, I will hate her new partner instead. It effectively ruins the morning for me, burning away the calm pleasure of being so close to her. Even in sleep, I'd been aware of her firm warmth against ear, head and shoulder; the sweet touch of her hand in my hair. 

 

"That was her?"

 

Stabler beat me to the question, braver than I.

 

"Yeah," Olivia says shortly, adoration and discomfort laced through her tone. "And Lindsey."

 

"The kid?"

 

"Yeah. She's so much like Dace. I think you guys would like both of them."

 

There it is again, that loving thrum in her voice that makes me so jealous that tears come to my eyes. How I have always wanted that for myself, how chicken-shit and self-delusional I've been. Disgusted with myself, I manage to sit up and carefully crack my sore neck. "I should go," I murmur, trying not to cringe at the welcome warmth and weight of her hand on my shoulder. The teens bursting into giggles signals my escape, grateful for the distraction.

 

Shockingly, I make it to the street before she catches up with me. "Alex!" Despite myself, I stop, shivering in the cold. After a moment, weight settles over my shoulders, smelling of the woman I will miss so much. "Keep it," Olivia says quietly, running those coveted hands down my arms, stimulating the nerves, hitching my breath. "I won't need it anymore, and I'd like that a part of me stays with you."

 

"Thank you," I whisper brokenly, wishing that the embrace of the heavy leather was her arms… that she would never leave me. The thought brings burning tears to my eyes, blurring my vision, and I desperately wave at the passing yellow blur of a taxi. "You should go back to your guests, I've… I've got to go." Smiling weakly, trying to pull my heart out of her hands, I blather, "work… y'know."

 

There is no reaction, just that hang-dog face, the dark eyes overly bright.

 

It is an image that will haunt me for a long, long time.

 

++ Ingle ++

 

It's slow, no surprise. Tuesdays aren't exactly the high point of everybody's social life. I've spent my slow day rearranging the bar, filled with a restless energy that feels dimly familiar. The sensation has been building for years, like the slow growing of stalactites in a dark cave.

 

The time is coming near now, building like a wave in the deep ocean that will break over the land as a tsunami. Humankind has no clue what was coming down the pipe at it. The industrial revolution had been a lousy time to be recharging in my kaer. Not to mention an even worse time to sleep in, so to speak.

 

It's stunning, really, how quickly humankind forgot its true past. When the magic levels had fallen to such minute levels, all evidence of the world I once lived in… simply vanished. All that was left was the humans, the core race that spawned all the others had forgotten, and I was alone.

 

Well, alone enough to be a bit insane with it, for those that shared my so very rare immortality are no friends of mine.

 

The door slams open and a well-liked and familiar voice bellows into the afternoon quiet, "what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"

 

My pair of regulars ignore and smirk respectively, as I grin at Olivia. "Beg me, Benson."

 

There is a whole crowd with the swarthy cop, and they come in brushing snow off. Tossing her coat over a booth back, my cop pal sashays over with a look in her eye like she wants more than a drink. So I obligingly lean over the counter and give her a flirtatious eyebrow. Imagine my shock when Olivia Benson, often too serious for her boots, meets me halfway across the bar top and plants a warm kiss on me. "Please?" She flirts, batting dark eyelashes and I can't help but laugh. But I see something that she's hiding from her companions, cupping her cheek to keep the curious, dark eyes on mine.

 

Olivia grows still, caught in the lingering magic of my gaze. Even the most self-controlled of the human race can be cracked by the faint, lingering mana in my True Pattern. The pain of this strong woman, the determination, the history there in her gaze, it speaks to me as clear as language. Understanding the tough decision she has made, I lean over the counter and give Olivia a warm, gentle kiss, right above her eyes.

 

"Sometimes, the right decision is the hardest."

 

++ Olivia ++

 

Unnerved by the exchange, but somehow relieved by it, I watch as Ingle is suddenly acting like herself again. Coming around the bar, she went to my entourage with her usual magnanimous charm. Jamie and Gloria seem in awe of the tall, unusual woman, the adults only slightly more composed. 

 

We all settle down to lunch, jovially shouting a round of 'hellos' as Gabe and the pups arrive unexpectedly. Hugs and kisses are traded around, and I am heartened by the powerful grip of the man around my smaller frame. "It'll work out, love. You'll see."

 

For some reason, it never feels like weakness to be vulnerable with Gabe, there is something so big-brotherly about him. So, I take a moment to lean on his strength, finally straightening up with a sigh. "Thanks Gabe."

 

He grins brilliantly and kisses me on the nose before straightening up and gesturing Boot over. "Anytime, Liv. Michael and I were hoping that you could help us with an important favor."

 

"Anything," I agree easily and laugh when he gives me a dry look. "Okay, anything within reason." From the brown-paper package in Boot's hands, comes a well-loved leather jacket that I immediately recognize. "Dace's jacket?" I question, confused, and then it suddenly hits me.

 

The doctors cut the heavy leather garment away from her broken body. 

 

Humbled, I take the weight of it in my hands, see the memories of the blood-streaked hide, see the sheen of new oil and love in the careworn surface. Like scars, there are neat stitches of heavy, industrial waxed thread that run from collar to cuff along the right arm where scissors had sawn through it. Flipping over the once-bisected collar and shoulder, I note that the stitches are visible on both sides. The work is clean and neat and if not for the faintly visible slice beneath the stitches, it would almost look deliberate. The boys remain quiet as the flash of white on the back catches my eye.

 

Shuffling around the weight, I hold the jacket up, studying it carefully. Most of the symbols are faded badly, an ace of diamonds card and a red chess piece, but the ghostly lion's eyes on the shoulder blades visually leap off the leather in their newly embroidered glory. The image is startling in its realness, hints of gold and blue in the irises, a fading image of the black stripes bracketing a cougar's nose trailing between them.

 

"A friend of ours cleaned, fixed and embroidered that for us," Michael's voice says quietly behind me. "We would be grateful if you would return it to its rightful owner."

 

"My pleasure," I whisper, shrugging the well-loved old garment onto my own body, catching a whiff of Dace's smell hiding beneath the dry cleaning chemicals. "She's going to be ecstatic that you rescued it."

 

"Our pleasure," Gabe smiles.

 

++ Michael ++

 

(2-13-02)

 

Last night, I'd taken Olivia to the airport, where my pack, Jo, the teens, and Elliot, hugged the woman goodbye and watched her and the distinctive leather jacket vanish into the depths of LaGuardia Airport. Jamie wasn't the only one who sniffled and needed a hug after that. Regretting being separated from Jo and her fascinating child, I dropped everybody off at their respective abodes and returned home, desperately needing to get some real work done today. 

 

But Jamie had surprised me, pressing a note into my hand as she followed her mother out of the limo. Reading it yet again, I trace the neat handwriting with a finger. 'There's a family Valentine's get together every year. I'd like it if you'd come. Wednesday, the 13th. Come by at 6 and I'll make you and mom dinner. Apartment 12, fourth floor.'

 

How can I say no to that?

 

So, terrified out of my mind at meeting the Polniaczek clan, I gather up the things I am never without and head for the garage, shrugging into my best camel-hair trench coat. A couple quick stops and I am back at the apartment building with the popular bar taking up the bottom two floors, the neon 'Rosa Jo' lighting the evening dark.

 

In truth, I'm scared to death of what I am headed into. My feelings for Jo are well known to me, but the trappings that come with her are pretty much foreign territory. Sure, Jamie had been the biggest hurdle, and we've become buddies of sorts, but the whole damn clan?

 

The burly man stepping from the elevator where I wait, gives me an appraising glance that I ignore. On the fourth floor, I step out and again pause with nerves. It's just wrong that I am this petrified, and yet so very telling. Fear and fact fight in my head. Only true love could make me such a wreck.

 

It is reassuring and nerve-wracking all at once.

 

There are only four doors, and I take a deep breath before rapping just below the prominent plaque marked '12'. 

 

++ Jamie ++

 

Meeting mom's girlfriend had been bizarre, but she makes one heck of an impression. Intense, intelligent, and dangerous, with a smile that lights up her whole face, the gorgeous Michael is something else. Watching her with mom is sweet. They're an odd couple, sure, but they fit nicely. So, I took a chance and invited her to join the whole family.

 

Call it a test, sorta.

 

A knock makes me jump, heart racing. Is it her?

 

"Is that someone at the door?" Mom calls from her room as I race to answer.

 

"Got it!" I yell and look through the peephole, restraining a yell of success. Michael flinches when I yank the door open, but smiles, the expression a little queasy. "Hi! You made it!"

 

"It's been a long time since I had such a nice offer," Michael grins and brings up one hand with a single rose. "Happy Valentine's Day." Startled, I take the pretty flower, a deep, rich coral color, and smell it.

 

"Mmm," I hum happily at the amazing scent.

 

"Pink means friendship," Michael says softly, and I look into the strange, pale eyes, more gold than brown, and feel a connection to her.

 

"Friends," I offer, giving her a hug, startling her.

 

++ Jo ++

 

That knock is probably more of my idiot cousins stopping by, looking for a handout. You'd think the bar would be enough to corral the herd, but there are always a few overenthusiastic ones around at these family get-togethers. It is always fun, always wild and always exhausting.

 

Maybe someday, Michael would want to be a part of the chaos.

 

Sighing wistfully, I finish putting on my earrings, cute little ruby studs my father gave me years ago, and head for the kitchen. This is one of the few times I like to dress up a bit, if nothing else, because it gives my cousins a shock.

 

"Who was at the door, honey?" I ask Jamie as I walk past the front door…

 

To freeze dead in my tracks.

 

As though conjured by my wistful wishes, there is Jamie, hugging Michael, right on the threshold of our home. Sheepishly, terror and fondness in her gaze, my lover winds an arm around Jamie's shoulders, a wine bottle and bouquet of red roses dangling from her fingers, and smiles at me. Immediately, those eyes change, raking over me, bringing up all the complicated emotions and hormones that she always does. Handing the bottle and roses to Jamie, Michael stalks over to me, expression intense.

 

"You look lovely," she compliments softly, her tone more vulnerable than I've ever heard it.

 

"Michael," I breathe idiotically, my brain still on pause.

 

But I snap out of it when she leans into me with intent, once more lost in the taste and feel of the mouth that unravels me without fail. A moment or an hour or a lifetime might pass, my knees quivering in time to more vulnerable parts of my anatomy, before we separate enough to make eye contact again. It is supremely strange to be nearly eye to eye with her, as I am actually wearing a bit of a heel.

 

"Jamie invited me," Michael says hesitantly. "And…"

 

"And what?" I hear myself ask, touching the gorgeous face I love so.

 

"And…and I want to be a part of your life. Really be a part of it. I've held back for too long."

 

It is the nicest gift anyone has offered me in a long, long time.

 

++ Michael ++

 

Well, that went well. Slightly less petrified of the gathering family throng downstairs, I cuddle with Jo for another minute, and we laugh when we notice that the front door is closed and locked with Jamie nowhere to be seen. Snorting with amusement, Jo presses her face into the side of my head for a moment, breathing against my ear. It is sexy and comforting all at once.

 

"Must have given up on us paying any attention," she whispers softly, and I am relieved to hear familiar arousal in her tone, hidden beneath the amusement and nerves. Leaning back, she eyes me critically for a moment, amusing me. "You really came over here to brave my family?"

 

"Yes ma'am," I grin, giving her a squeeze.

 

"You're either braver than I thought or completely out of your mind."

 

"Just head over heels."

 

How I love that soft, adoring look on her expressive face.

 

"Come eat!" Jamie calls from the direction of whatever smells so yummy and we adults obediently follow orders. Dinner is ravioli that Jamie says her gramma Rosa made from scratch and a savory sauce of the teen's own making. Since it is spinach and cheese and a meatless sauce, at least I don't have to worry about something heavy upsetting my stomach and eat heartily of the delicious meal.

 

To my amusement, Jamie chatters at me as though we've been friends forever and asks any question that comes to her mind. Jo's baffled and pleased gaze weaves between us and the dozen deep red roses I'd brought for her, now arranged in a vase, thanks to Jamie.

 

We laugh together, and I even dare reach over and poke Jamie in the ribs to make her laugh harder. Whatever misgivings I've harbored for so long are melting away, even as I know there is one more major hurdle to jump.

 

++ Charlie Polniaczek ++

 

Finally having achieved an age to be wise, I've learned to be appreciative of my life. Once I'd made the right choices, things just seemed to work out for me. The bar, and the warren of apartments above, is a dream come true, keeping business and family at a central hub, tying us all the closer together.

 

Kids, grandkids, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, friends; all of that and more gather at the bar where I have poured my heart, soul, sweat and money into every brick, tile and light bulb. This sprawling bar is named after the two girls that will always be first in my heart. The first returns my sentimental grin from where she is holding court at the main bar and for the thousandth time, I thank my lucky stars that I'd gotten a clue and half-killed myself to win back my first and only love, my beloved Rosa.

 

My other sweetheart is still missing in action.

 

As though conjured by my thoughts, the swinging doors from the lobby sweep inward, admitting my swaggering granddaughter, grinning like a silly fool. There is a loud ripple of welcome, that halves in volume quite abruptly. There is my only child, the light of my life and the pride of my heart… on the arm of a simply striking woman.

 

It isn't the woman part that startles me, but that there is a significant other here at all. Both look petrified, but brave, as the silence deepens and Jamie begins to scowl. This is the mysterious Michael then. The clothes should have been a dead giveaway, because jeans and a casual shirt could only look so good on a woman bred for elegance and high class. Not to mention the faded bruises on her face that now illustrate the heavily edited version of events that took place in Chicago on that last case that effects my baby so deeply.

 

Time for dad to step in and do his best to make it all better.

 

Striding quickly towards my daughter, I hold open my arms for a hug, magnanimous and accepting of her, as always. "Jo, sweetheart. You were making your old man worry!"

 

"Sorry, papa," she murmurs, returning the hug with only one and a half arms. Bet she's still clinging to the girlfriend then. Cupping her beautiful face, I smile warmly.

 

"You look beautiful," I compliment and she blushes a bit. So shy about her good looks! Then I give her cheeks a squeeze and turn my focus on the woman beside her.

 

++ Michael ++

 

Shrewd and familiar blue eyes turn to me, a quick examination that is more thorough than some doctors I've seen. "You're Michael, then."

 

"Yes sir," I reply immediately, the honorific rolling easily off my tongue. Quickly transferring Jo's tight grip to my forearm, I offer a hand to the man. "Pleased to meet you."

 

An older woman strides through the awakening crowd, every inch as intense and curious as this man. "So, they finally persuaded you to come," she comments shrewdly and I startle at Jamie's slender body pressed into the opposite side as her mother. It is a humbling gesture of acceptance, and I have to smile.

 

"I see where Jo and Jamie get their good looks."

 

Startled, father laughs and mother looks pleased, though she quickly hides it under a classical Italian scowl. "What kind of name is Michael for a woman? You are lucky that we knew who you were!"

 

"It's a nickname, ma'am," I hasten to explain. "My best friend's name is Gabriel."

 

It takes a moment for the joke to compute, then the older woman laughs prettily, reminding me powerfully of her daughter and granddaughter, pressed into my ribs.

 

"Michael and Gabriel, very funny," abruptly she goes serious, peering at me closely. "But what is your name?"

 

The dreaded name is furnished with the possibly the least amount of reluctance since I started becoming my own person as a young child. "It's Grace. Grace la Magne."

 

"Grace. Much better. Pleased to meet you, Grace. I am Rosa, and this is Charlie." Her handshake is warm, dry and solid, just like her voice and temperament.

 

Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

 

++ Jo ++

 

It's hard to believe how relieved I am that my folks like Michael. That girlie name that mom had pressed out of her still doesn't fit her. She will always be Michael to me. During the course of the evening, she had put several idiot cousins and a lecherous uncle in their place, the polite smile never fading. Those of my clan that display class and intelligence are treated accordingly, and the impression of my unusual lover will linger for some time.

 

"So, I owe you a thank you," I tell my daughter conversationally where she is chattering with Gloria. Gabriel brought the teen with him when he arrived about half and hour ago and the girls have picked up right where they'd left off at Liv's place. Jamie regards me thoughtfully before smiling, a faintly lecherous expression that both amuses me and makes me cringe.

 

"For inviting Michael?"

 

The innocent act falls short, and she squeals with laughter as I twist around to tickle her fiercely for a moment. "Yes, for inviting Michael," I admit warmly, holding her close for a long moment. Then a ripple through the crowd makes us look to the front doors.

 

"Fashionably late as always," Jamie chuckles as the females of the Warner clan frame themselves in the doorway, followed up by the ever patient Tad. As always, there is a brief current of reaction to my old pal, still gorgeous after all these years and, as usual, I shove it down. 

 

"Excuse us, Gloria," I murmur distractedly, even as I notice my dad headed for the doorway where the Warner matriarch waits patiently. "We have to go say hello."

 

"Okay," she says softly and I made a mental note to get her some trusted company ASAP.

 

"I'll stay put, mom," Jamie volunteers, warming me with her sensitivity. "Aunt Blair can come over to me once she's done wowing the crowd." The fond sarcasm isn't lost on either of us and I hug her quickly before moving to join my father.

 

++ Blair Warner ++

 

Twenty-two years has made her no less attractive, no less appealing. As is life-long habit now, I do my best to squelch down the 'what if' game my mind and emotions insist on playing with me every time I interact with Jo Polniaczek. For once, the game is a short this time as my mother makes a pleased sound at the presence of a slender brunette that materializes at Jo's shoulder. The way my old pal leans into her is not lost on me.

 

"Michael?" Mother says with pleased disbelief. "What an unusual surprise, to see you here."

 

"Monica," the sultry brunette smiles, taking my mother's offered hands and trading the little cheek kiss that is such a stamp of our privileged lives. "These are your lovely daughters I presume?"

 

Then I realize with a sick jolt in my stomach who this is. The slow, knowing smile as the Archangel Michael accepts my woodenly offered hand, clues me in that she knows who I am as well. All those trips to the territory of the Amazons to play out the rough sexual fantasies inspired by the woman at her side come back to me now in loving detail. "Blair," Michael purrs softly, making my nerves arc and my skin flush. "Jo's mentioned you," she adds wryly, and I nearly cringe at how knowingly she looked at me. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her touch is warm and gentle, and I am torn by the press her mouth so briefly on my knuckles. Before I can stammer out something coherent, Michael turns her attention to my little sister and her smile changes from sensual to friendly. "And you, of course, are Bailey."

 

It is the youngest of us that really pours on the charm, as Bailey bats her eyes coquettishly at the attractive brunette. "So pleased to meet you, Michael. Are you friends with Jamie and Aunt Jo?"

 

The small smile dancing around the corner of that full mouth as Michael looks at Jo makes my heart ache and Bailey to chuckle. "You could say that," the woman purrs and Jo flushes, slapping her away affectionately.

 

"Would you two go check on Gloria for me?"

 

We all watch the aristocratic woman escort Bailey to where Jamie and an unknown teen are seated, before Mother breaks the small quiet. "Quite a catch you've made there, Jo." Charlie makes a small, strangled sound of amusement, for which Jo flushes tellingly and elbows him in the ribs. Despite myself, I have to chuckle along with Mother, even as she takes Jo's arm and drags her back towards the party. "Tell me all about it."

 

The wry look Jo flashes her is both amusing and telling. "I think I'd rather not tell you everything, Monica."

 

Knowing Michael's line of work with the Four Suites, my half-hearted hopes couldn't handle it.

 

++ Michael ++

 

(2-14-02)

 

"I enjoyed meeting your family."

 

Half-asleep, Jo snorts in amusement and rolls onto her back with a sultry grin. After a long night of dinner with Jamie, the party at Rosa-Jo's, some sensuous snacks and lovemaking beneath the stars, this ranks right up there with the most stressful and successful of my Valentines. Some of my thoughts must show on my face, because Jo twists to sit up and straddle my hips with a sexy grin.

 

"Yes, I think they quite enjoyed meeting you as well," she smirks and I am treated to a teasing caress over chest and sternum. Somehow the lovemaking of this night has felt different. Every time I accept this singular woman closer to my heart, it offsets the vulnerability with the pleasure of the bond. "What?" Jo asks curiously at my goofy grin.

 

"My fears in letting you all the way in are unfounded, _cherie_." The look of pleased surprise on her lovely face makes me grin wider. My native tongue doesn't slip very often. "The French is proof enough how much I love and trust you."

 

"Ah yes," she smiles, bending to rest her weight on both elbows, tumbling that near-black hair over us. "Your mysterious background." Thoughtfully, she taps her lower lip, entirely ignoring the way our bodies nestle. Curious and amused at her playfulness, I remain passive, merely stroking the lean lines of hips and thighs. "The accent's wrong for Louisiana, Gloria pointed that out, though you slip into it when talking to Grand Dame." Despite the teasing note in Jo's voice, I realize that I have told her so very little about myself. Sensing the shift in emotions, Jo's smile fades to concern. "What is it?"

 

"There are things about myself that I've never told anyone," says my mouth, completely independent of my upper brain, where my fears are so firmly housed. "Gabe knows some, so does KC and the other original Aces, but not all of it." Fear and cynicism twist my face for a moment, and Jo sweetly soothes that stress away. "I'm not sure I even remember it all."

 

There is something so empathetic in that bright blue gaze, that tears suddenly rise up in a suffocating wave. "You left France for a good reason." Wordlessly, I can only nod. "I've told you once, and I'll tell you again, that you tell me when you're ready. Whatever you once were, I love what you have become."

 

++ Jo ++

 

Well, it isn't at all the way I figured my Valentine's Day to go, but somehow, this is even better than the sweetness and sex. Tears aren't something I associate with my strong lover, but she had sobbed quietly against my shoulder for some time before dozing off. I know the sound of that pain, the look in her darkened eyes. Traumatized children grow into adults that bear those same scars. 

 

Michael has trusted me enough to glimpse the hurt little Grace within her strong soul.

 

Humbled by the trust, I cradle her body with mine, listening to her murmur in her sleep, the restlessness chasing away rest. The French sounds different somehow, despite the words being gibberish to me, I can sense the feel of them. When she sobs out, " _mere, my mere, je regrette (mother, my mother, I'm sorry)_ ", I finally have to wake her. 

 

"Michael," I whisper, firming the stroking of her dark hair, trying not to startle her unduly. While I have never see the extent of how dangerous she can really be, I know better than to test my luck. After a moment, the tension in her body changes, and I look to see her eyelids flutter open.

 

Long moments pass before my lover speaks up quietly. "How's your history?"

 

Huh? "Okay, I guess. Why?"

 

"Charlemagne ascended to King of the Franks in the eighth century," Michael lectures in a flat monotone that belies her stress. "I could bore you to tears with tomes of information I still have memorized, but you can look on Wikipedia for that." I refrain from chuckling, because this is serious to her, even as I have no clue where she's going with it. "I grew up in a commune, for lack of a better description, deep in the heart of wild France. According to family history, I am the last in a long line of eldest born, directly descended from Charles the Great."

 

It's an impressive linage for sure, but what on earth has her so tense?

 

"Are you worried that my opinion of you will change?"

 

Startled, Michael raises herself up to meet my eyes.

 

++ Michael ++

 

It actually never occurred to me to worry that my 'royal heritage' would change the way she regards me. That is not at all her style. Mutely, I shake my head and she smiles before tugging me down for a warm kiss. "Good. I'm glad you know me that well. Now, tell me what's really bothering you."

 

This is it.

 

I have never been completely honest about my past, not at school, not with the Marine Corps, not with KC and Gabe.

 

Only Grand Dame knows the entire story.

 

"My family," both of us flinch at the venom in my tone, but I sink back to the haven of Jo's body and force myself to continue. "Suffers from a horrible legacy of insanity from isolation, ignorance and inbreeding. The monster that fathered me has been institutionalized for his entire life, no more useful to society than a rabid animal. My grandfather," I sharpen my teeth on that word, once again refusing to speak that bastard's name. "Knew that steps had to be taken to preserve the lineage and managed to find a curly branch of the family tree who had immigrated to America."

 

"Grand Dame?" Jo guesses in a gentle voice and strokes my hair as I nod.

 

"They weren't doing well here, poor and with family dying from ill health and poor working and living conditions. Louisiana can be a harsh place, but lovely. Grand Dame's daughter," my voice goes hoarse with tears, the pain has never lessened. "Sold herself to my bastard grandfather to be put in with the monster that fathered me."

 

The hug is fierce and I am strengthened.

 

"I never knew her. I never even knew this part of the story until I met Grand Dame when I was twelve years old. My cousins and I were raised in a convent-like setting with no contact with the outside world. No TV, no phone, no newspaper. Our only information was books, and we had a library that was amazing. Our lives were stuck back in the past. Psychologically, we learned ruthless mind games from the adults and practiced on one another."

 

++ Jo ++

 

I had guessed a long time ago that something tortures Michael. Hearing her very accurate descriptions of an insular cult upbringing begins to explain a great many things. After some time, I realize that there seems to be no more of the story coming and I nuzzle Michael's head.

 

"So, Grand Dame found you and brought you here?" my tone is conversational and calm, soothing Michael, who nods against my throat. "And you obviously finished school, and with high marks if I know you," I tease gently and feel her mouth quirk in a half-grin. "Then became a Marine, no mean feat, a lawyer, got yourself in with a business empire you now run? Do I have it right?"

 

"Yes," Michael sounds sweetly pleased and exasperated and I congratulate myself on handling her right.

 

"I think she'd be proud, but that's me. I know Grand Dame is and I have that straight from the old horse's mouth."

 

Calm settles over my lover, even as tears still wet my skin for long minutes. Part of me marvels at this intimacy, the ease of it and that either of us has taken this step at all. Even the buzz of the ingrained 'relationship panic' in my brain is just white noise that I easily ignore. The vulnerability of my heart has always been worth it with her.

 

In a single fluid motion that is so her, Michael tightens her grip and flips us over so that I am now on top, looking into her softened features. Ignoring the tingle in my oxygen-starved right arm, I watch her face as she touches mine softly, humbled by the childlike trust I've never seen so clearly before.

 

"Thank you," she whispers so softly and so hoarsely that I can barely hear. A soft kiss calms us both and I remain with our foreheads touching, noses nestled and her flooded wolf eyes close.

 

"You're welcome, love. Rest now and I'll watch over you."

 

Nodding, already drifting off, Michael goes limp and I snuggle down into her lanky body. Odd couple we may be, but it works. If I had any doubts before this night about how deep the feelings run for both of us, they're gone now. I feel more secure than I ever have, here with my love where we are meant to be.

 

**To Be Continued…**


	5. Sweet Home Chicago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zo makes some new friends, who help her out when things go unexpectedly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R
> 
> Pairings: Kerry/Zo. Sandy/Joan. Maggie/Elizabeth.
> 
> Disclaimer: “ER”, the characters and situations depicted are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant C Productions, NBC, etc.
> 
> Disclaimers: “The West Wing”, the characters and situations depicted are the property of Warner Bros. Television, John Wells Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This site is in no way affiliated with "The West Wing", NBC, or any representatives of Allison Janney or Stockard Channing. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.

++ Kerry ++

 

(2-19-02)

 

Never thought I’d see the day. My beloved Zoey in a classic tizzy. Unflappable, adaptable and unshakable… well, that was normally the case. Days after all hell had broken loose with Dace and Snake-Eyes, the Amazons had commissioned Zo for a gallery showing right in downtown Chicago at the club, and the guest list was impressive. After showing off on our home turf, we would both be on tour with the collection of paintings, because there was no way I could live without her for that damn long. Besides, I’d welcome the break. 

 

“Kerry!” Zo’s voice grew shrill with stress and I finally winced. “Have you seen that blue silk shirt of mine?” Time to step in.

 

“No, but come here, baby.”

 

“I don’t have time for anything, _theh mou_! This sucks.” Despite the continued rant, Zo obediently trotted out, clad in painted on black jeans and a lacy black bra that made my mouth water. She was an emotional wreck, and it didn’t take her lover to see that. “I know it’s here somewhere, dammit! I just saw…” 

 

The rant stopped as I poked her in the stomach with my crutch. None too gently either. Blue-green eyes rounded in surprise and she reflexively grabbed my weapon of choice. “Sit down,” I instructed gently, but with steel beneath the tenderness. When her mouth opened to object, I poked her again. “Sit. Now.” Still wide-eyed, Zo gingerly sat beside me, as tense as though she expected the couch to bite her. So I hooked a hand around her neck and firmly tugged her into my lap where I could concentrate on those glorious curls. “Now,” was my first salvo. “I realize that you want to be on time and make a good impression, but I think that fashionably late and sane would be better in this case.” Fingers buried in that thick, silky mane, I felt Zo’s tension began to ease as I massaged her scalp and neck. “Second, I hate seeing you like this. As your lover and your doctor, I want you to relax for a few minutes and regroup.”

 

Zo caved to my will with a shuddering sigh. Her lanky body curling trustingly into my smaller frame made me feel ten feet tall and invincible. Nuzzling my belly, Zo hummed softly and the tension began to leave her body slowly. We stayed like that for a long time.

 

After nearly half an hour of peace, Zo snaked her arms between me and the couch to squeeze until my hips creaked with the strain. “I love you, Kerry. Thank you. I didn’t realize just how worked up I’d gotten.”

 

“Love you too,” was my pleased response. “Now, as for your shirt. Maybe the green one instead? Make those pretty eyes of yours more mysterious?” Happy with the suggestion, Zo abruptly disengaged and jumped to her feet with a heart-stopping grin. Before I could prepare myself for the onslaught, she had leaned over and pressed me back with a kiss that left me in a vacuum of sensation and oxygen deprivation. Still reeling, I was then nailed by the woman’s sweetest, most adoring look and was lost all over again. “What would I do without you?”

 

What indeed?

 

++ Zo ++

 

Thank whatever deities that looked over fools like me that the evening was going smoothly. The vast majority of my stress had been pointless, as the Amazons proved what pros they were. The very ballroom where Dace had entertained the most carnal interests of the Four Suits had been transformed into a varied landscape of surfaces for my beloved paintings. 

 

While I missed Kerry’s steady presence at my side, her calm and love like a layer of armor, the memories were sustaining enough. The shirt that reminded me of those gorgeous green eyes helped too. There was a reason I bought this color, and it was for more than bringing out the green in my own gaze. 

 

“I liked your work before,” came a familiar voice and a glass of champagne was held out in a manicured hand. “But like this? It’s magnificent.” Grinning at Jane, I accepted the glass, restraining myself from taking a healthy swig and instead, savored the fine wine.

 

“I owe your tribe,” I said quietly, seriously. What the Amazons had pulled off was nothing short of amazing. White fabrics in a whole host of textures and tones draped artistically to enhance the paintings and sculptures and several performance artists that provided a shock to the audience. And the turnout was nothing short of amazing. There was a multitude of accents and dress and I had to wonder where the hell the Clubs had scared up such an international crowd. Honestly, I was feeling wildly out of place amidst the sophisticated people and all the glorious fashion.

 

But they were here for the art and I was humbled and thrilled that the general consensus was favorable. There was one powerfully handsome woman in particular that caught my eye, as she stood, completely engrossed in my favorite piece. Gemini had remained my best work, haunting even me with the images of the dual sides of my lover. It had taken the combined flattery of both Mel and X to convince Kerry and myself to put the canvas up for public display.

 

It had been the center of attention all night.

 

The attention made me feel so very exposed, and yet warmed me with the quiet accolade of this sophisticated crowd. The focus of that accolade seemed most poignant through the eyes of the striking brunette with the fiery highlights that wore a jeweled broach of the symbol of the Swords. I remembered the dagger-like, elongated spade tattooed so intimately on Michael’s body, as well as the rest of the New York pals of Dace. I wanted to approach the woman, but how?

 

Then another brunette with fiery highlights joined the first, just as striking, and I actually choked on my drink. The undignified squeak and the champagne staining my favorite shirt was forgotten as her familiar countenance registered.

 

Holy shit!

 

++ Jane ++

 

I’d watched Zo all night, keeping tabs on her stress levels. After all, I was under orders from my wife to keep our buddy sane. So far I’d managed pretty well, but something just made her go ashen and do a classic spit take. Chuckling, I pulled out the napkin I’d been hiding and mopped off my hand before blotting the worst of the stain spreading over that great shirt she was wearing.

 

“You’re going to need a dry cleaners,” I laughed at Zo, as she finally noticed that she had made a small mess of herself. “Seen a ghost?”

 

“Jane,” she whispered in a strangled tone. “Am I seeing shit?”

 

Now I was curious. Who was in the crowd that made her look like she was at the end of a loaded shotgun? When I turned, I was instantly saluted by a near-matched pair of beautiful, middle-aged brunettes that I knew well. Only one was a personal knowledge, but the other was all too distinctive.

 

“Well then,” I managed to say after swallowing my shock and forcing my eyebrows back down from my hairline. “We should go say hello, seeing as the Grail seems to be so fascinated with that rockin’ piece of yours.”

 

“Huh?” Was the ineloquent reply, but she allowed me to drag her over to the smirking pair.

 

“Lady Roselane, ma’am,” I greeted the baron of DC respectfully. While I technically ‘outranked’ her, treating one’s elders respectfully was always a good idea. Then I turned to her friend, noting that the woman, while striking on TV, was quite gorgeous in person. “Madam First Lady.” With briefly lowered eyes, I sketched a respectful bow to the woman, and she chuckled throatily. 

 

“Oh, Jane, really. Please, call me Abbey. I’ve heard so many good things about you from Carolyn, that I feel like we’re already friends,” said Abbey Bartlett, married to the President of the United States, all charm and smiles. It worked, and I graciously accepted the elegant hand offered and shook it, restraining the urge to kiss her knuckles. Then she turned that winning grin on Zo, who ‘meeped’ like a frightened squirrel, but gamely held her ground. “And you are the one I came to see.”

 

“M… ma’am?” Zo stuttered. 

 

“I spotted that water explosion piece that Carolyn keeps in her office months back,” Abbey was explaining, holding Zo’s woodenly offered hand in comfort. “When she told me about this, it was a perfect excuse to visit Chicago. This canvas alone,” she continued, drawing our eyes to the magnificent painting, “is well worth the trip.”

 

++ Zo ++

 

Goddess, but this was like some kind of surreal story that Maggie would tell, bless her tall-tale tellin’ heart. For a long moment, I stared at Gemini, taking in the remembered strokes of paint, all my adoration of my mercurial angel, caught as best I could in my altogether inadequate medium.

 

“Love is always the best inspiration,” I murmured, forgetting for a moment that I wasn’t at home, where the piece normally hung above our bed. Then I ducked my eyes back to the matched set of brunette women, watching me with kind amusement. “Sorry, this piece always makes me introspective.”

 

“I can see why,” smiled Abbey Bartlett. “Your doctor must be some kind of woman to get that look.” Both she and the one with the multiple names sighed dreamily like teenage girls and burst out laughing at each other. There was an ease of a very long friendship between them and it made me smile. 

 

“Wait,” my voice suddenly piped up with no conscious input from my brain. “Water explosion piece?”

 

“Oh yes,” Abbey enthused. “There’s a magnificent spray of water with a truly spectacular sunset in the background. And an island in the distance, almost blending in with the clouds.”

 

Wryly, the other woman spoke up, “it’s called Catalina Four.”

 

Wracking my brain desperately, I came up with a blank that left my head aching and my nerves raw. My helpless look, even banked with a sense of decorum, and not a small need for self-preservation, garnered me instant sympathy from these powerful women. “Don’t fret, Zo,” purred the lady with the Spade broach that Jane had called Roselane. “I don’t expect you to remember everything you’ve ever put to paper or canvas. Your painting brings me great joy, isn’t that all that matters?” Then she smiled and flashed Jane a mockingly askance look. “Tarzan, dear, you never did finish introductions.”

 

“Actually, I never even began them,” Jane castigated herself lightly. “I apologize for my bad manners. Mel will have my head, I’m sure. Zo Goldston, meet the baron of Washington DC and a member of the House of Spades, Carolyn Roselane, known also as the Grail in our circles.”

 

“Like the Holy Grail?” Yep, that was my voice again, blathering away like a complete idiot. Okay, enough of this, Zo, get a grip. Shaking off my shock, I cast through years of schooling and trivia, trying to remember why there was a buzz of connection with the names. “Wait… Roselane was some kind of hereditary name for the family line believed to be of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, who some believe was the Holy Grail.” (1) The musing ramble trailed off and I dragged my mind back to the present, smiling sheepishly. “Or something like that.”

 

A brilliant smile graced the face of the attractive woman, and I could feel my kudo count inching up among these powerful people. “That’s actually pretty accurate, Zo. Most have no clue.” A sudden, sly expression on the First Lady’s face, accompanied by an emotional intent to tease, made me grin. Roselane flashed her a warning look, heavily laced with mutual amusement. “And you keep your naughty comments to yourself, Abigail. Leave me some dignity.”

 

I liked them both, surprised by their warmth and friendliness. Not to mention the firm handshake I shared with Carolyn Roselane. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. You’ll have to send me a picture of Catalina Four to jar my memory. I’m afraid that I’m a bit of an ADD child. In one ear and out the other.”

 

“Entirely appropriate for an artist,” she smiled and I could only laugh in agreement.

 

++ Kerry ++

 

(2-20-02)

 

The apartment was lit only by the morning sun as I stumbled in, and reset the alarm with the ease of long practice. The green shirt was in the dry cleaning basket by the door, so I knew Zo made it home, and I skipped breakfast, shower and all else to go check on her. Sprawled out in boneless elegance, she was as enticing a picture as always. Particularly naked from the waist up, with the tight jeans gaping open to reveal her flat abdomen. Ah, mornings like this made night shift almost worth it.

 

Startled, Zo jerked awake, despite the gentleness of the hand I set on her abdomen. “Huh?”

 

“Shh, babe, it’s me.”

 

Groaning expressively, she went limp again, blinking in the morning light through the windows. “It’s morning.”

 

The note of confusion made me chuckle, smoothing my hand over that enticing ‘v’ of flesh that her open fly revealed. It was an observation that required no real comment, but I hummed something confirming and continued to touch her. The sweet physical connection broke through the haze of her night, and the startling blue-green eyes cleared with a wry grin. Without further comment, she tugged me down to sit carefully, then lean over and share a long, hot kiss with her.

 

“Missed you,” breathed against my ear, her hands gentle in my hair, caressing my scalp and neck, sending electric prickles through my nervous system. That mouth subtly tortured ear and neck, my moans echoing up from my chest… and the mood was broken by the flash of pain from my hip that made me hiss and tense. “Ah, I know that noise. C’mere baby.”

 

One thing that Zo remained so wonderfully consistent about, is never making me feel as though there was anything wrong with me. In her absolute unwavering blasé attitude about my hip, was an acceptance like I have never known. 

 

She squirmed away only far enough to press me onto my side, a pillow tucked up between my thighs, her artist’s hands firm and healing on my aching joint. With only six-odd months of practice, she has become a master of my body, particularly this. Stroking and kneading, she coaxed away my long night, loosening the half-numb muscles, the stiffness of the joint and the pain surrounding it.

 

Honestly, it’s one of the best reasons that we’ve remained in love. Maybe a ‘whole’ person cannot understand the physical connection. The loving healing from her hands, the easy acceptance of me just as I am. 

 

++ Zo ++

 

Humming happily to myself, I went through the familiar motions of easing my sweetheart’s pain. Truth be told, I loved this. It was relaxing and loving, and I did so love to work with my hands. The hip felt different, decades of walking awkwardly taking their toll on bone and muscle and sinew, but Kerry was as much flesh and blood as the next gal. Sometimes, I know she marveled at my easy acceptance of her, as is, like she’s some kind of damaged goods, but she is what she is. She can no more change that leg than Mangas could fly.

 

The image of a winged ferret made me snort and lean over to nuzzle Kerry’s ear and temple, while I continued to lightly stroke her hip. “Sleep, or nookie?” I asked in my driest tone, and her pale lashes fluttered open as she giggled.

 

“Sweet talker. Tell you what, how about the bath? I know you just did a wonderful, drawn-out seduction on Valentine’s Day, but the memories of what we did in that tub have distracted me for days.”

 

“Done,” I growled and kissed her soundly before scooping up her small frame and prancing into the bathroom. While the water warmed, we frisked around and undressed, her lips on my belly while she tugged the tight jeans off, and I tossed her shirt onto the counter. “Love you,” I reminded her quietly, hugging her to my larger frame, rubbing our noses together affectionately. 

 

“So, I had a normal night,” Kerry grinned, her expression full of half-hearted disgust for her medical profession, and I laughed as she expected me to. “How did the reception go?”

 

“You’ll want to be sitting down for this.”

 

“That bad?” She winced and I laughed again.

 

“No, not bad, just… shocking.”

 

Quickly scrubbing her small frame down, and massaging shampoo through her fine, red hair, I then made Kerry stand behind me, while I worked on my own mane and she lathered me up. There was some hanky panky that set us both to giggling, and we held each other after rinsing off and waited for the tub to fill. A little yummy-smelling oil, something piney that reminded me of my warm-weather home in this icy place, and we were settled in to cuddle.

 

“Okay, I’m seated,” Kerry grinned where she was settled against my chest. “Spill.”

 

“The paintings looked amazing, I hardly recognized some of them. The Amazons had the whole ballroom draped in a mass of textures and fabrics, all white. It looks like the dancing scene from Labyrinth. I half expected David Bowie in those tights with that boofy hair to glide by with some pretty thing in his arms.” We chuckled together. “And the art is scattered through the whole, draped mass of it. They put Gemini in the prime spot.”

 

“Oh god,” Kerry muttered, flushing with embarrassment.

 

“Everyone loved it,” I said quietly, still awed by how great the crowd had been. “All these powerful people, and not one of them could walk past that piece. So, I felt like you were there, y’know?”

 

Her, long, slow kiss derailed me completely.

 

++ Kerry ++

 

Well, there was no way either of us were interested in conversation at that point, as my adoration and hormones boiled out of control for this sweet woman of bluntness and fire. The tub was a fairly recent purchase, wide, deep and full of water jets. With some careful maneuvering, and Zo’s strong hands to keep me from slipping, I was able to turn around and straddle her. It was my favorite position, the wideness of the tub easing the strain on my hip, her strong thighs curled up against my butt to help keep me steady.

 

With scattered love-talk, Zo smoothed those coveted hands over my skin, her seductive mouth open and probing with mine. No hesitation in her touch, there never had been, as she traced my spine, hips, backside, arms and thighs. While I caressed her fine breasts, she returned the favor, and the only language we needed was the moans and sighs in the steamy bath.

 

When she slipped a hand down, pressing inside, I was once more hers and hers alone.

 

Recovering from the intense orgasm, I laid dizzily against Zo’s chest, listening to her strong heart. The sound was music to me, sweet and reassuring. “So, there was this one woman,” she picked up our earlier conversation and my woozy mind raced to catch up. “Turns out she’s the Spade in charge of DC, but Jane’s keeping an eye on me, and another brunette steps out of the crowd, and I swear, I actually did a spit take.” I just chuckled, waiting for her to drop the bomb, stroking her chest and collarbones with light fingertips. “It was the First Lady. I thought I was seeing things, until Jane bodily dragged me over to get introduced.”

 

“Seriously?” I had to ask, leaning away to study her face.

 

“Yep, Abbey freakin’ Bartlett. Nice woman. And she and Roselane, the DC Spade, are old buddies. I knew the Suits were powerful, but sheesh! Roselane’s got one of my paintings. I didn’t remember it until I got home and looked at the pictures. I’ll show you later, after we sleep.”

 

“Sleep?” I tease softly, my roving hand getting more and more caressing, her eyes gone dark with arousal. “A little later. Take me to bed, so I can ravage you.”

 

“Yes ma’am!”

 

++ Zo ++

 

It had been surprisingly easy to adapt my life around Kerry’s mobility on a permanent basis. Right now, I used dancer’s muscles to lever us both up, grabbing the bars mounted on the walls until I could park my ass on the edge of the tub. There were towels within easy reach, and we patted each other mostly dry. After that quickie, she’d be wobbily, so I kept that fine ass in my hands and stood, using my arms to support her legs, and headed for the bed.

 

“And how would madam like me this evening?” I intoned in my best snooty butler’s voice, making her laugh.

 

“With all that wet hair, you’d better be on your back.”

 

“Sweet,” I leered and she smacked me on the hip before kissing me deeply. Generally speaking, we were pretty much equals in all aspects of life, including our love life. But I sure as hell didn’t mind when she got all bossy with me. After all, wasn’t it the fierce little tyrant that had caught my eye in the first place? The sweet woman underneath the steel was my pleasure alone. After kissing me breathless, didn’t take much as tuned on as I was, Kerry slowly worked her way down, reintroducing me to all my erogenous zones. By the time she settled in between my thighs for a morning snack, I was howling like a dog. 

 

Some sane little voice in my head read from my internal ‘things not to do’ list and I managed to not squish Kerry’s skull as the pleasure roared through me. By the time the third assault beached on my shores, her fingers deep in my cunt, I was having a damn tough time remembering, and she let me wind down.

 

“Wee,” I said my usual post-coitus celebration to her chuckle as she scooted back up to drape herself down my side. This was the life!

 

About twelve hours later, I was longing for my girl’s sweet touch.

 

With the shock value of the gallery worn off, the mechanics of it were becoming just that, mechanical. The crowd was no less appreciative, but it lacked the extreme polish of that first night. How quickly the magic fades! There was no doubt that kept me painting, the elusive chase of capturing just a twinkle of magic. 

 

My wandering mind had its choke chain yanked when someone materialized discreetly at my elbow. The handsome young blonde, impeccably and somberly dressed, rang a bell, and I jerked up a hand to halt her in mid-word. “Let me see if I can bring the ADD down a notch and remember you.” Bemused, the woman subsided with a smirk that gave her away. “I know where you learned that expression,” I chortled in delight. “Your boss did it several times at FLOTUS (2) last night.” Now she looked startled that I’d picked up on her being more than merely secret service. “With the Greek name. _Gamatoh_ ,(fuck) what was it?” To my huge amusement, my companion made a wet explosion noise, and the prompt rattled the information loose with a delighted bark of laughter from me. “Santorini!” Grinning, she sketched a deep bow and chuckled along with me.

 

“The ladies would like to know it they could treat you and your doctor to lunch.”

 

Lunch? With the First Lady? Something of my panic must have shown on my face, because Santorini smiled understandingly.

 

“They’re cool. Give them a chance.”

 

++ Jena ‘Nemo’ Santorini ++

 

This firecracker was observant. After looking over her body of paintings, it shouldn’t have surprised me, but I was still taken aback. Very few would realize that while Abbey Bartlett was my job and my privilege…

 

It was The Grail that owned me.

 

I was plucked out of a promising career as a pro soccer player after blowing out my knee. My Amazon buddies in Philly got me back on my feet and sent me off to New York to train with the Swords. My aggressiveness was better suited there, and the Spade enforcers honed off the rough edges to leave me quick, calm, confident and deadly.

 

I’m not sure what drew The Grail to me, but I’m not complaining! My heart and soul and body are imprinted to her strength and power, even as I’d willingly take a bullet to save her dear friend and my grave responsibility. Truthfully, I love them both dearly. After a harsh year of physical recovery and training with the Swords, I was in for a second year beneath the steel and velvet hand of The Grail, where I truly came into my own.

 

Besides, my presence means that the Bartletts can play while still remaining under official protection. That was originally my role, and Madame First Lady decided that I was worth keeping in her immediate sphere. While I missed my Mistress dearly sometimes, it’s worth it.

 

Zo wailed off key to some random dance track on the radio, pounding away at a keyboard or some instrument that only she can see. We’ve been chatting for nearly an hour in the cold, while waiting for Kerry to finish work so that we can all get fed. With the sedan idling and the heater huffing away in concert to Zo’s energy, I found that I don’t mind. I’d given Zo the basics of my somewhat odd life story, and she thought it was riot. Hers was almost as good.

 

Before I could get annoyed at the impromptu concert, I spotted a small figure on a single crutch, red hair flaming in the crisp winter night, illuminated by the lights at the emergency room’s entrance. Stretching like a stiffly weary cat, the woman shook herself out and I tapped Zo to point her out. Like a shot, Zo’s out of the car with a happy sound and I got a very bad feeling as she pelted across the icy pavement.

 

The driver of the car had to be a native, because I had no idea how the hell the Honda CRV didn’t crush her flat. There was a short, sharp retort of rubber on bad footing, and the little SUV skittered one way, then the other. Zo froze for an instant, like cartoon slow motion, horror on her face as the headlights bore down on her, before making an insane leap that would have made a cougar proud, her body jerking awkwardly as the car just caught her foot, making her squall in pain.

 

++ Kerry ++

 

In the Emergency Room, I see the aftermath of the incidents, what’s left behind after the accidents and sickness and stupidity. I’m so rarely there to see trauma happen, that I don’t even realize what I was witnessing for a long, blank moment.

 

There’s a car bearing down on Zo.

 

There’s a car bearing down on Zo!

 

And she’s just standing there, awkwardly, like she’s trying to catch her balance in the icy street. Screaming her name broke the spell, tires squawking on the bad footing, those fine dancer’s legs coiled and Zo executed an Olympiad-worthy leap out of the way. She nearly made it too, the bumper tagging her foot just enough to yank her whole body stunningly to the sidewalk.

 

Even as I marveled at her reflexes, I was on the move, horrified that she had been hurt, the lover and the doctor focused now on getting to her to help. “Zo!” A woman’s voice yelled, a blonde layered in black danced through the slowing traffic and dangerous ice like a pro.

 

“Oh shit,” came a man’s voice, the driver of the SVU, his vehicle parked crookedly nearby. “Is she okay?”

 

Kneeling painfully, I wrapped Doctor Weaver around me like a cloak, smiling warmly at Zo, who blinked blearily where she was just picking her head up from the frozen sidewalk, hissing in pain as she left behind an icy crust of blood behind and more oozed over her face and hairline. “Oh Sweetie, that was a nasty tumble.”

 

“Kerry?” She asked softly, her tone childlike and bewildered, shakily holding herself on her elbows where she was sprawled ungracefully on her chest. “What happened? I was in the car…” There was no doubt in my mind that the nasty fall had left her with a concussion, and I fretted internally. The handsome blonde woman knelt beside us, but kept her hands to herself.

 

“Jeezus, Zo, there’s easier ways to impress your lady here than bravely jumping into traffic.”

 

“Fuck off, Nemo,” Zo giggle-groaned as I scooted closer so that she could rest her head on my thigh. “Kerry, I don’t feel good.”

 

With a decisive nod to cover my fear, I turned my attention to the handsome blonde that knelt beside us.

 

“Get into the ER and grab somebody to get a wheelchair or stretcher. Tell them it’s for Doctor Weaver. Go!” With her off scrambling to get help, I ignored the hovering man and stroke my lover’s undamaged cheek while we waited.

 

++ Maggie ++

 

“I need a stretcher!” The yell made most of us jump, despite how busy we were. It sucked how slowly we reacted, but we’d heard it a million times. “Doctor Weaver’s with Zo, who got clipped by a car!”

 

Okay, that did it! With a quick nod, and an angry-looking pair of gestures from Mel, I was off with Abby hot on my heels. The ruffled blonde looked totally nonplussed at me for a moment, and I couldn’t resist teasing, “what? You a friend of Sara’s?”

 

“Huh? God damn, but you look like my partner. C’mon, Zo’s out on the sidewalk.” There was no time to question her comment, as the bite of February in Chicago took a chunk out of both my lungs and thinly-clad body. 

 

“Yikes,” I muttered, not even earning a smirk from Abby. Both of us were worried as we followed the strange woman to the nearby sidewalk. Sure enough, there was Zo, head in Kerry’s lap, a decent amount of blood frozen to the pavement. “Stopping traffic with your head?” I joked and knelt to shine my little penlight over her face. It earned a wince, and revealed her unevenly dilated eyes. “Bet you’ve got a concussion. Feeling a little queasy?”

 

“Yeah,” Zo whined. “And my fingers are cold.”

 

“I bet. It’s nasty out here. Good thing you’re near a hospital. C’mon Abby, let’s get her up.”

 

Kerry’s silent, hovering, but stayed out of my way. The hovering male and Zo’s blonde knight helped gently get her long body settled on the stretcher, and we were careful not to jar her spine, just in case. Abby fell behind for a moment to get Kerry on her feet, while blondie and I headed indoors.

 

There was the usual blur of checking her vitals, getting her out of the coat and checking for further injury. The ankle was swelling badly and we had to cut away her boot, revealing swathes of purple that guaranteed some kind of fracture. As the limb wasn’t bent where it wasn’t supposed to, I took it as a good sign that it wasn’t as serious as it could have been. There would be x-rays soon, but for now we had to tread carefully around the damage done to her skull and brain by her obviously spectacular fall.

 

Elizabeth arrived at some point, talking in urgent whispers to Kerry, who very reluctantly allowed herself to be drawn from the room where I was working on Zo. Immediately, the tension dropped a notch. Soon, we took her gurney to x-ray, where we took snapshots of her left shoulder and right ankle. Abby chattered at our woozy buddy while I squinted at the hazy images of white on black. “Well, congrats,” I started in abruptly. “You managed to fracture your ankle, but luckily, your shoulder seems unbroken, though I’m betting it feels like it is.”

 

“Mags,” Zo whimpered, traumatized eyes awash in tears. “This really hurts. Please.”

 

I felt terrible about her suffering, especially from multiple injuries, but there was nothing to be done for it. “Not with a concussion, Zo. Any chemical right now could do further damage.”

 

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

 

++ Kerry ++

 

If I had ever been so rattled, I couldn’t find memory of it.

 

My own little slice of hell. My heart, torn, bleeding and helpless from my breast. My sweet, bouncy lover broken and bloody beneath my hands.

 

The surroundings didn’t register, nor the bustle of my staff around me. I was totally on autopilot, terrified of the damage to her brain, registered in her unevenly dilated pupils. What if it was more serious than a concussion? Every instinct told me that she had been unconscious for a few seconds where she lay on the frozen sidewalk.

 

That could be so bad…

 

My inner voice was wildly gibbering at me, rendered discordant by my visceral terror. 

 

Then something… no… someone was in my face. A voice began to break though the hysterical static in my brain, my bones, my heart. “Kerry, you need to step aside. I know how hard it is to work on someone you love. Let Maggie take care of her.”

 

Elizabeth. It was Elizabeth, with pain and empathy in her eyes. And it was those emotions that broke through my crippling hysteria. The agony of what might happen here, in this familiar trauma room, flooded through me, left me broken and drowned. “Zo…” I moaned low and pained in my chest, leaning hard against her for support for an endless moment.

 

But I heard her.

 

And, agonizing in every corner of my being…

 

I stepped aside.

 

++ Liz ++

 

It had never been so far to the emergency room before. Robert had taken the call, his normally sardonic face gone still, concern and something that was almost horror replacing it. The room began to spin as he told me that the call had been Abby, there’d been an accident…

 

Expecting something bloody and horrible, I was brought up short by Mel’s hand jerking almost violently at my sleeve. “Hey!” She shouted, scowling darkly. “It’s not that serious. Come down a few notches before you tweak out Kerry worse than she already is.”

 

Painfully swallowing my stress, I nodded at Mel, who clung to me for a moment longer before letting me go with a decisive nod.

 

Maggie acknowledged me without seeming to move, as I entered quietly. She was doing a basic exam, talking calmly to the woozy Zo. “Humor me, Goldston.”

 

“I don’t remember,” Zo whined petulantly, weakly batting at Maggie, trying to get the bright light out of her eyes. “I was at the reception. There was someone that met me there. I kinda know her, but I can’t remember!”

 

Then I noticed Kerry and I went to her, knowing that she needed to be away from this to get some perspective. So, I gently gripped her upper arms, willing the wide green eyes to meet mine. “Kerry, you need to step aside. I know how hard it is to work on someone you love. Let Maggie take care of her.”

 

Slowly, painfully slowly, she became aware of me, her countenance ravaged with emotions. “Zo…” she moaned softly, finally leaning against me for support. 

 

++ Kerry ++

 

(2-21-02)

 

I hated this.

 

And yet there was no place I would rather be.

 

Zo would not open her eyes to find herself alone during this crisis. I’d rather die first. This time she would not wake to find a stranger standing over her, telling her mommy and daddy were gone…

 

Rubbing my aching eyes, I tried to chase the thought away. My sweet lover, only ten years old, trapped in the back seat, her parents both dead only feet away.

 

Good thing I had an in with the staff here. The perversely amusing thought made me huff and refocus on Zo. 

 

She looked helpless and frail among the sheets, but her breathing had leveled out, pulse steady, color improved from her ashen hue of earlier. A hundred technical terms flashfired through my brain, all of them white noise to me now. Twenty-four hours since her spill was approaching rapidly, and the signs remained positive. Her memory remained decent, except for the missing hour spent with her new friend in the car waiting for me, and the actual fall.

 

Every few hours, Zo had been wakened and quizzed over her surroundings. Every time broke my heart, as she woke to disorientation and agonizing pain, but the concussion had to be monitored. 

 

Thank goddess for Maggie’s pragmatic, easy-going personality to ground us both through this. Right on cue, my colleague thumped into the room, buried in a file. “Hey Kerry. How’s sleeping beauty?” Exhausted and raw, I shook my head mutely, and received a strong shoulder squeeze from the younger woman. “Well, the good news is that it’s damn well close enough to twenty-four hours. Let’s wake her and see how she’s doing.”

 

For a moment, neither of us moved, and I realized with a start that she was waiting for me to do it. The dark eyes were heavy with fatigue and empathy. Maggie would never know how relieved I was to do this, to lessen the stress of my sweet lover as she woke again and again to pain.

 

++ Zo ++

 

This game was getting old, and I grumbled pissily to the jostling. “God dammit, Maggie,” I growled, pain killing all ability at kindness and tact. “I swear I will kill you.”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” said my pal dryly as I peeled my eyes open reluctantly to meet Kerry’s watery gaze.

 

“Hey baby,” was all I could manage, worried about the look in her eyes. “Am I gonna be able to play the guitar?”

 

“Smartass,” she giggled shakily. “You don’t play the guitar.”

 

“Oh darn.”

 

They gently grilled me on the same stupid shit that they’d been grilling me on, while my attention tried to float away on the swamping waves of pain from head, shoulder and ankle. Then Maggie finally seemed satisfied and I watched with hungry eyes as she injected something into the IV line that almost instantly rolled over the agony like the tide on a beach.

 

Groaning in relief from even a little of the hurt, I felt some of the tension and relaxed the death grip I had on Kerry’s hand. “Thirsty?” She teased gently and twisted to retrieve a cup from the table nearby. I suckled blissfully cool water from the straw and immediately felt better. 

 

“Love you,” I murmured drunkenly, determined that she should hear it before the drugs made me even stupider than the pain. “So much.”

 

“I love you too,” Kerry whispered with her voice even rougher with emotions. “Now rest for a few minutes until Art and Liz get here.”

 

++ Liz ++

 

As much as I had wanted to stay with Maggie and my friends, there was no way I would let anyone else run this errand. Besides, the stress and relief of not being able to do something about Zo’s fractured ankle was making me a little crazy.

 

Would I know her? Sure, I had seen pictures, but in this throng…

 

O’Hare was its usual hectic self as I headed for the luggage carousel to find the older sister Zo so adored. How on earth would I find her in this throng?

 

Then something caught my eye. An aggressively self-assured stride, the flash of army green, familiar black curls slicked back behind aviator’s sunglasses. It was a jolt of shock and something I guiltily suspected might be arousal that raced down my spine. She was striking in a more down-to-earth way than Zo, rugged and confident in her movements. But the resemblance was obvious, especially when she paused to pull off the sunglasses and I saw the eyes. They were a pure, deep crystal blue, rimmed in exhausted red, the color like cloudless evening skies in the tropics. Or deep, deep ice. God, she looked so calm, but those eyes spoke volumes.

 

A bark somewhere jerked her attention away and the spell was broken. “Art?” I called out and she looked back again. There was a sparkle of achingly familiar humor there and she strode over.

 

“You must be Elizabeth,” she spoke only loudly enough to be heard, her voice that same low timbre as Zo’s. Up close she was even more striking, and I could see that her impeccable military appearance had been marred by stress. Small curlies had escaped the tight little tuft at the back of her head, there were wrinkles in the tough green fabric and her posture was undeniably weary. I pulled my eyes away from the glitter of silver chain around her neck that held the dog tags and shook her outstretched hand. Like her first impression, the handshake was firm and self-assured.

 

“I wish this could be under better circumstances.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“I’ll take you to the hospital.”

 

“Hang on; I need to get my partner.”

 

Partner?

 

Confused, I followed her through the crowds as the barking grew frantic, and remembered just as we reached the porter with a large dog crate that her partner was a police dog. ‘WARNING: MILITARY WORKING DOG,’ was written on the crate and the animal within calmed at a quick command from Art. “Lucky, quiet.” In a few minutes, the paperwork had been settled and the laptop computer case handed over to me. In silence, we headed out of the enormous airport and into the chaos of the traffic and winter weather outside.

 

“Will she be alright in a car?” I called over the noise and Art chuckled.

 

“Trust me, she’ll be fine.”

 

Her good humor warmed me thoroughly; despite the fact that I was certain that the attraction I was feeling was just stress release. And that ole’ Goldston magnetism…

 

++ Art ++

 

I liked Elizabeth. She was warm and intelligent and obviously loyal. Once again, Zo had managed to surround herself with people that cared about her. Not that there was any doubt that the Goldston charm wasn’t the most powerful in the youngest of my family. The British woman gave me a sideways glance as I chuckled to myself. Sam and Janet were going to hear all about this when I returned to Colorado. Small talk and some details about the accident kept my mind occupied until we reached the hospital. Nerves and lack of sleep were threatening to get the best of me, despite all of my efforts to the contrary. Car accidents still made me shake like a terrified fifteen year old in the back seat, with mom and _bahbas_ so close, yet so far…

 

 _Thehmou_ , I hated hospitals.

 

“I’ll take you up there,” her accented voice told me and I followed with no hesitation. We approached what I realized was the emergency room and when I looked at her questioningly, Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s habit to park in the employee area and come in this way.”

 

It might have been amusing under different circumstances, the two of us striding through the swinging doors like gunslingers in a bad western, every eye in the place resting on us. A pretty Asian woman in a labcoat paused and eyed me disdainfully. “You can’t bring that dog in here.”

 

Damn civilians. Instead of getting mad, I put on my best smile and lowered the sunglasses to catch her in the full force of my well-honed intensity. Once again it worked as she gave me her full attention. “This is my partner, Lucky. She’s a military police dog.” Then her reaction changed, dark eyes softening in sympathy.

 

“You’re Zo’s sister, aren’t you?”

 

Of course Zoey was pals with all the staff at her woman’s work. I quickly ran through descriptions of the people that Zo had described. Then kicked myself mentally when I noticed the name stitched into her lab coat. “Yes. She’s mentioned you.” My eyes skimmed over the faces gathered, almost familiar from my sister’s stories. “All of you.” Emotions tightened my throat, for I was too tired and full of memories to resist the painful memories and the tears much longer. “I’m glad she’s in good hands.”

 

Their eyes followed me as I shadowed Elizabeth from their silence.

 

++ Kerry ++

 

It had been awhile and the quiet lulled me into a doze. The familiar sounds of the hospital hummed around me like a living entity. Then something tickled across my perceptions and I stirred in the uncomfortable chair. A presence came to me, a presence I knew well, and another with her that was so close to being well-known that I turned to the door to see. In slow-motion the slab of cheap wood swung towards me and I was relieved to see that Liz had returned. Then I paused at the stranger who was no stranger, that followed in her footsteps. Even after all this time, I could recognize her from my trip to Colorado when X and Kim’s friends had gotten married.

 

I knew that Art acknowledged me without actually looking at me at all. The shadowed eyes were trained on the bed where Zo lay. I couldn’t take my gaze off of her as she moved across the room like a wary predator to stand over Zo.

 

“ _Ahdehelfee mou, eemay dhoh. Ahneekso mahtia sou_ ( _My sister, I am here. Open your eyes._ ),” spoke a soft voice so different, and yet so similar to the woman I had grown to love so much. One hand came to hover over Zo’s battered forehead and the clouded blue eyes looked to me for permission to touch. I nodded and that hand settled to Zo’s skin, their coloring indistinguishable from the other. A soft moan rumbled up from Zo’s chest and her eyes fluttered open.

 

“Art,” she breathed.

 

“ _Yasoo._ ”

 

“ _Mooleepsees_ ( _I missed you_ ),” Zo sobbed quietly, both arms coming up to settle on the loose army-green sleeves of her sister’s fatigues, fingers flexing urgently in the cloth. 

 

For a long time, they remained like that, as still as a painting, noses touching, tears mingling, looking so alike and yet so different. Eventually, they spoke softly in that beautiful language they shared, and there was even a matched set of quiet laughter. Then they looked at me, and I was again struck by how alike and how different they were. Groaning from being hunched over for so long, Art straightened up, cracking her spine and smiled at me.

 

It was just wrong that my hormones reacted to that familiar expression.

 

As though sensing my thoughts, Art’s smile deepened as she stepped over to me, hands out. “Come here,” she instructed softly, and I obeyed without thinking. Her grip was stronger than Zo’s, her body more compact, with strange calluses. In a moment, I was wrapped in a powerful, loving hug from this woman who was a stranger, yet family.

 

The tears burst from me before I even knew they were coming.

 

++ Art ++

 

Humming in reassurance to us both, I held Kerry’s small, trembling body close, both of us needing the contact. “I remember you,” I grin at the woman, leaning my head back so that our eyes can meet. “We never really met at Karen and Dare’s wedding. So, hi.”

 

It cracked a grin, humor lightening the shadows in her pretty green eyes. “Hi,” she managed to rasp hoarsely. “Is that Lucky?”

 

On one of my favorite subjects, I pressed her back into her seat near Zo’s bedside, while I pulled up the exam stool. My sib watched with a lingering smile as Lucky was properly introduced to Kerry, impressing all of us when she reached out that regal head and gave the red-head a little kiss on the chin. “Wow,” Zo marveled sleepily. “You’re special. Lucky doesn’t kiss hardly anybody.”

 

Curious, Kerry paused in petting Lucky’s head to fire me a questioning look. “She’s mostly right. Lucky’s not much of a kisser. You are indeed, special.”

 

Kerry looked inordinately pleased with that.

 

Someone slamming through the door made all of us jump, Lucky in a defensive crouch. “Sorry,” the attractive and familiar-looking brunette there grinned sheepishly, arms laden down with greasy bags and a paper holder of sodas. Elizabeth jumped into action, helping with the bags and getting the newcomer out of the bulky White Sox jacket. With an armload of greasy-spoon fare, I witnessed a quick kiss between them and grinned.

 

“You’re Maggie then,” I offered, along with a hand. Grumbling at her work and warm coats getting too friendly, Maggie finally stripped them both off, much to the amusement of all of us. Taking a moment to compose herself, she gave a faintly amused glower and grabbed my hand.

 

“You’re Art. Damn glad you made it. She’s been making us crazy, whining about every little thing.”

 

That made me laugh, accompanied by the quiet huff of amusement from Zo, and a distinctly dry, “fuck off.”

 

Despite what happened, she was okay.

 

And if she was okay, than I was okay too.

 

**To Be Continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) This little piece of trivia was a gift from Stormwriter, a former English major and font of interesting trivia. And here, I thought I was just making a tribute to President Roslin…
> 
> (2) Stormwriter strikes again, for teaching me this acronym. Do you know it? No? First Lady of the United States.


	6. Las Vegas Turnaround

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Vegas to see how threads get tied off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: NC17
> 
> Pairings: Olivia/Alex, Dace/Sara.
> 
> General Disclaimer: This site contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

++ Dace ++

 

(3-31-02)

 

My life has remained at full tilt since Magda fielded that fateful phone call all those nights ago. Snake-Eyes, Catherine, Sara, Las Vegas, reunited with my old leather pals, blah, blah, blah. Tonight is the first time I've begged off obligations with my new family since the aforementioned phone call.

 

With the setting sun, my divorce lawyer called my cell phone. With a fax, I have proof that I am once again a free woman. With that legal document, I have to stop holding back.

 

Because there is a part of me that has been doing just that.

 

All the years I've wanted things for myself… and never could.

 

Or would.

 

Staring into the goblet of whiskey in my recently uncasted hand, I am gratified to see that my scarred limb doesn't shake around the perspiring glass. I've grown to hate Paul because he cheated on me with every jiggle that gave him the time of day. Unfortunately, the man is a charmer. My marrying him is proof of that. I can only guess now, looking back, that he pursued me because I was a challenge.

 

Sigh.

 

And I was stupid enough to eventually give in to the pursuit, too desperate for a shot at 'normalcy' to listen to my sane inner voice. Disgusted with past idiocies, I down the glass, wincing at the expensive burn, and slosh more into the glass. My stomach is still sensitive from months of painkillers, but I've worked my way through half a fifth of whiskey anyway. Kerry is going to kick my ass. Not to mention my Guide, who should be home tonight.

 

All of this whining is pointless though. I still have yet to figure out exactly how to get my relationships on even footing again.

 

"Dace?"

 

Startling at that sleepy little voice, I shove away the alcohol, rub my eyes, still wincing at the sensations in my damaged arm, and look over the edge of the couch. "Hey Shrimp."

 

"You're drinking," Lindsey scowls at me, her expression letting me know exactly what woke her.

 

"Yeah."

 

It isn't a real answer, but I'm unsure how to deal with Lindsey in this mood. Her scent drifts over me, stronger than the older impressions of her, here in the house of her mother. I don't spend every night here anymore. The nearly-complete 'Miss Monica's Chicken Ranch', as Dana has fondly dubbed our new headquarters outside town, is more like home now.

 

And the distance between all of us is becoming noticeable.

 

Now, I like kids. Really, I do, but one has never been a long-term part of my life. I really feel like I'm screwing this up. There's too much for me to deal with on my own. Lindsey moves to stand at the edge of the lamplight, her little face pensive. How the hell am I supposed to help her?

 

++ Lindsey ++

 

I don't like alcohol. Grown-ups are stupid when they drink the stuff, and I don't like the expression on Dace's face. Just 'cause we're pulled towards each other like magnets, doesn't mean we've found a way to be real friends. I like Dace, and I'm in awe of her, and I'm even afraid of her… and I'm jealous of her too.

 

Both me and mom can't stay away, and sometimes we feel kinda like maybe we don't have a say in any of this. But, neither does Dace. I wanna like her, 'cause I can't get away from her, and I know we can do this, until I find the girl who's gonna be to me what mom is to Dace.

 

In the meantime… I need her. I need her to teach me, and protect me from too much goin' on in my head. "I miss you," whispers my own voice, almost soft enough that you'd hafta be a Sentinel to hear. Her blue eyes, just like me and mom's, only with that wild gold glittering just under the surface, watch me like a hunter. For a long moment, she stares at me like I'm a puzzle, then smiles, slow and sure, and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

 

The open arms are an invitation that I jump on, earning a giggling grunt and a bone-crunching hug. "Sorry to be a pain in the ass, Squirt."

 

"S'ok," I murmur, snuggling into her warmth, noting something that confirms what my eyes have been telling me. "You've gained weight."

 

"Gee, thanks," she laughs, and I swat at her.

 

"Not like that. You were way to skinny. You feel… real now. Y'know?"

 

"I know," she smiles softly and tucks me up under her chin, holding me like I'm still a little kid. Sometimes, I just need that, and it's sometimes hard with mom and dad.

 

"So, are you okay? I mean, you and mom and Sara?"

 

That gets a startled look, then a smile like she's making fun of herself. "I forget how observant you are."

 

"Hello? Sentinel. Duh."

 

We chuckle together, then wait in a warm quiet. "I don't know if I've thanked you enough for helping me out since I got here."

 

++ Dace ++

 

The look of confusion is adorable on her cute little face as she leans her head back onto my shoulder to eyeball me. "Like what?"

 

"You seem to think that you're only learning from me," I explain softly. "But it's not true."

 

That little nose wrinkles up. "Really?"

 

"Really! Sometimes, grownups need a clue. You're good at that." We grin together, and I give her a friendly headbutt. "Just don't do it too much, y'know? If you grow up any faster, your mom's gonna have a nervous breakdown." Sharing a giggle, we settle into a peaceful quiet.

 

"Am I ever gonna find her?"

 

The quiet, vulnerable question needs no further clarification and I squeeze this child of my heart. "Yes," I reassure her yet again, completely certain of that fact. Only this time, I go one step further. "You'd know if she was gone." Startled, Lindsey hangs on my every word, big blue eyes guileless. "Monica found that insane Sentinel, remember me telling you about her?" A nod is the only reply. "I think that's what happens to Sentinels that are alone."

 

"If their Guides die," Lindsey whispers in horror.

 

"Yeah." I hate having this kind of conversation with kids, but Lindsey needs honesty, not coddling. "We can't be alone. Alex Barnes was alone and couldn't handle the senses and the solitude."

 

Thoughtfully, Lindsey stares off into space, brain spinning busily. "So… so I'd know if she was gone."

 

"Yes." My quiet reassurance is broken by a squawk as she takes me off guard with a guerrilla hug that makes me fear for my whole neck.

 

"I love you Dace."

 

"I love you too."

 

( **Author's note** : Slobbering thanks to **mrswoman** for the delicious dream sequence below. She wrote this the original draft of this for me, and I liked it so much, that I used it to start Alex's role in LWM.)

 

++ Alex ++

 

(4-2-02)

 

Lost in Olivia's loving, I barely register a third person entering the room.

 

A hand ghosts over my sensitized nipples, twisting sharply, sending a shiver of pleasure towards Olivia's hands already playing me expertly.

 

My eyes fly open.

 

"Dace?"

 

The tall woman smiles at my gasp; blue eyes flashing violet with something akin to rage as she lowers herself beside me to mutter, "continue Dobie."

 

Olivia glances up with a hint of defiance.

 

"Now."

 

Olivia complies.

 

Dace smiles, daring me to pull away, then soft lips take mine in a demanding kiss. Relenting slightly, she murmurs against my trembling lips, "sweet Alex, never keep me waiting."

 

Jerking awake, I stare around wildly at my familiar surroundings. It felt so real, the press of hands and mouths and curvy flesh. Groaning, I bury my face in the pillow and once again try to shove away the lingering images.

 

This has to stop.

 

Ever since Olivia bid New York farewell, my brain and hormones are obsessed. Why had she left? She is a dyed in the wool New Yorker to her core. And she just left? It is that damn Dace's fault. The thought of the enigmatic stranger brings her ghostly voice to me.

 

"Never keep me waiting."

 

Ever since hearing her scratchy voice over Olivia's ancient answering machine, she's plagued my thoughts.

 

And my dreams.

 

I must have dozed off again, because the phone jerks me awake, once more leaving me disoriented in my own home. Grumbling irritably, I automatically scrabble for the phone and mutter an incoherent hello into it.

 

"Alex?" I know the voice but can't place it. "This is Michael, Olivia and Jo's friend."

 

Brain cells jump and fire, bringing my memories into focus of a striking brunette with the mysterious and compelling amber eyes. Dammit, it's like acknowledging my attraction for Olivia has suddenly made me wildly aware of women in general. This is insane, really. I am far too old to be having this kind of sexual identity crisis.

 

"Alex?"

 

Startled, I realize that I have been mentally ranting to myself. "Sorry," I manage to rasp. "Not quite awake yet." In just three days of suspension and self-induced house arrest, I've let myself become slothful and depressed. Then my lawyer brain stops sulking for a moment and perks up in predatory glee. "Hey, how did you get this number?"

 

Even across the separation of time and electrical impulses along wire, I can hear the smile in Michael's voice. "Liz Donnelly." My boss, the woman that I had pushed too far, lying to my detectives about a warrant and very nearly getting the case thrown out of court. Sure, I'd gotten the bastard locked up, but I had compromised not just my integrity, but that of both my department and the SVU squad. "She's concerned about you and Olivia both. No April Fool's joke, I promise."

 

"That was yesterday," I answer woodenly, sounding like a petulant and confused child. "Michael, listen. Whatever you have to say…"

 

"So," she bulldozes over my weak protest, voice soft, but as implacable as a sword in the gut. "Rumor has it you might have flown the coop, or possibly worse."

 

"Yes, well…" I can't finish the thought, feeling oddly chastised and incredibly stupid at how I've been acting. The sigh that echoes up from my gut is not feigned. "Do you know where she is?"

 

"Yes," is the easy, curt reply. "And so do you. Honestly, I'm surprised that you haven't contacted her yet." Ire is burning through the fog of sleep and depression and my ass-kicking skills are beginning to growl. "Perhaps you misrepresented your feelings."

 

"You wouldn't understand." The words snarl out before I realize I've even spoken. "There are things…"

 

"What? The Cavanaugh-Barnett case? I know all about it, counselor. I'm not going to judge you on that. Honestly, I probably would have done the same thing, and would feel as lousy as you obviously do right now."

 

Stunned by this woman's presumptuousness, a sharp knock on the door startles me from the rant building in my throat. "How dare…"

 

"You'll want to open that," Michael cuts me off once again and I hold the phone away from my ear in outraged shock at the click of disconnection. Seething, I don't even check the peephole, a stupid move, not even wondering who would be knocking without being accessed by the security guard or my phone.

 

Only to be faced with the voice on the phone, on my doorstep and in the flesh. An imperiously raised hand stops the tirade again and something pained in her eyes gives me pause.

 

"I baited you, Alex, and I'm sorry for that. Perhaps I can explain myself?"

 

Whether it is her placating tone or the cup of Seattle's Best Coffee she hands over or the brown paper bag with a fresh, hot croissant and gourmet bagel sandwich, I don't care. It's nice to have someone go through the motions of giving a damn about me. This enigma settles to my couch to nurse her own paper cup and brood at my false hearth, while I ravage my unexpected breakfast and wait her out.

 

"Olivia and Jo saved my best friend from a street gang that would have killed him," isn't what I expect to fall softly from that full mouth. "Then I went and fell head over heels for Jo, even if it took me a good, damn long while to give in to the inevitable." The self-depreciating smirk makes me smile faintly. "I have a serious soft spot for them both. Then Olivia threw in her lot with one of my best friends, and Dace really needs her."

 

"Dace," I hear myself sneer, both of us startled at the venom in my tone. Clearing my throat, I set aside the tattered remains of the food, my appetite flown. "Yes, well…" I hedge, not sure how to move beyond the awkwardness.

 

"She misses you," Michael says again, urgency lacing her tone. "And you're miserable. You only live once, Alex, the old cliché is true." I still can't bring myself to react and Michael sighs heavily, staring at me for a moment with those eerie wolf-like eyes. "If you won't do it for yourself, and you won't do it for me, will you do it for Olivia?" Confused, I make no reply, but my eyes follow her hands as they go into the satchel at her feet. From it, comes an evidence folder, one of the most integral parts of my job. This one is pristine and crisp and a weird feeling of dreadful anticipation trickles icily down my spine. "The backlog of cataloging some of the older crimes into the new DNA databases got a hit." The thick paper feels unaccountably heavy in my hands. "They found Olivia's father."

 

(4-3-02)

 

Packing is a blur, handfuls of random fabric shoved in a travel case that is going to end up inadequate for a longer trip. Michael herself drives me, talking with someone on her cell to get me a plane ticket, no return date. Now, I am thousands of feet above the Midwest, watching the midnight hour tick down, too wired to sleep even at this ungodly hour.

 

The folder remains unopened in my satchel, shoved tightly into my carry-on, safe in the plastic and steel bin above my head. Part of me is dying to open it and see what it contains. I'm not supposed to know Olivia's story, it isn't as if she had told me herself, but it is the kind of wild tale that everyone just seems to know. My scattered thought processes vaguely remembers Michael explaining to me that Liz has been sitting on the unopened file for nearly a month now, completely flummoxed on how to deliver it.

 

Now, it's in my hands.

 

Scared, manipulated, and queasy from nerves, lack of sleep and the roast beef with cream cheese bagel, I squirm in my seat. What will happen now?

 

++ Dace ++

 

"Oh, come on," I grouse as the lighting crew drops a second light, something audibly breaking as the heavy light jerks to a halt at the end of its safety chain. "If you fuckers don't shape up, I'm getting the horse whip," I bellow in irritation, stilling all conversation in the hall for a moment, before activity picks up at a more energetic pace. The last few days have been stressful, Catherine's mind a million miles away and Sara avoiding all human contact.

 

"Irritable much?" Steph teases where she stands beside me, playing secretary. She's right, I'm cranky, but I have good reason dammit! After spending several days helping my beloved women track down the events that had led to a horrific crash of a Greyhound bus and a car, they are both acting all weird and I'm at a loss of what to do. Lindsey's on a mini-vacation with her idiot father and Liv has been gone for a day and half with Tessa on some errand for Anastasia.

 

All in all, I'm feeling edgy and abandoned.

 

It seems like half my time is spent playing go-fer for Anastasia, not that I'm physically capable of much else, and occasionally it grates on my nerves. Then I tell both the cat and the lizard brain to shut the hell up, because she wouldn't have us overseeing important events if she didn't trust us.

 

In fact, I've gotten so good at ignoring the cat's grumblings and pacings, that I almost ignore her shrill warning. Hard to say who looks more surprised, Steph, or the angry blonde whose arm I've just grabbed in mid-swing. In an instant, I know her. The features from a few pictures among Liv's things, the smell clinging to clothes when she'd come back from New York. The pain shared with my adored Doberman of a pal.

 

Alexandra Cabot hisses in reaction as I tense my grip on her forearm, making her open hand relax and curl slightly. "You," she growls angrily, the sound possessive and pained. Releasing the arm, I mentally prepare myself.

 

"Go ahead."

 

It isn't the ringing, open-handed slap across my cheek that shocks me, but the fact that she has the _cojones_ to do it at all. Alarm swamps over the pain and rage in Alex's gaze and she raises her hands to her mouth in horror that she actually belted me one.

 

"Feel better?" I ask mildly, impressed with the strength in her willowy frame. Great tears well up in the expressive eyes and I sigh internally. Time to save another damsel in distress.

 

Gesturing gallantly with the plastic and foam splint on my arm, I coax Alex to move to a more private location before she melts down. Despite their collective shock at the attack upon my person, the House of Hearts-based crowd melts away as I prod Alex to an adjacent room, where the crew has already finished their initial prep. Even as my new companion shakes like a dead tree in wind, Steph materializes at my bad elbow, setting down two glasses and melting away again. Bartendering will forever be a part of that girl.

 

Silence seems my best bet now and hopefully she will start talking, because I'm at a complete loss of how the hell to proceed. Shaken, and trying to swallow it, Alex vibrates with stress. Hell, she reeks of it.

 

"Would you like a chance to decompress?" I hear myself ask quietly, gently. "Get in a nap? Shower? A stiff drink?" Those red-rimmed blue eyes glower at me, fall to where I'm quite certain that the side of my face is reddening up spectacularly, and drop once more.

 

"You don't have to be nice to me," she sulks belligerently and I wrestle down the dual need to roll my eyes or smack her one up alongside the head.

 

"Yes, I do," is my calm reply. "You're family."

 

Somehow, I end up with my good hand wrapped around the back of her neck, leading her to an elevator and heading towards the suite that Anastasia keeps on site. The doorman lets us in and I shove her in the direction of the bathroom, ignoring her for the time being. A quick glance into her satchel reveals that this had been a bigger rush job of a trip than I'd initially thought.

 

"Slip, suit jacket, t-shirt, and one pump," I drawl under my breath, amused at the counselor reputed to be icy calm being so utterly unraveled. So, I go to the phone and bail her out.

 

++ Alex ++

 

I am shaking! Literally shaking…

 

The strength of my reactions is frightening.

 

That flash of anger in Dace's eye was terrifying, not to mention my loss of control, cumulating in the ache in my left wrist where I slapped her so hard. Water hot as I can tolerate beats over my skin, easing the stress and disorientation that has me acting like such an idiot. While I enthusiastically scrub, I give myself the same kind of lecture that I would when dealing with a killer case.

 

In time, I feel calm enough to salvage what I can of the current situation.

 

Toweling off, and pleased to find a thick hotel robe awaiting me, I step out and follow the strains of Mozart. My host is sprawled back, seemingly asleep, in one of the couches in the opulent center room, the plastic and nylon removable cast resting on her belly. She is a beautiful woman, a combination of strength and slenderness, hair grown out sloppily above the angry pink facial scar from Chicago. The handprint on her cheek stands out lividly against her pale skin.

 

"I'm sorry," I breathe to myself.

 

"You're forgiven," her voice makes me jump, and I'm suddenly facing those sharp blue eyes again. "I've had worse done to me. Though you've got a mean left hook, Alex." The hint of a smile makes her even more attractive and the mischievousness suits her. "I hope you don't mind my forwardness, but I took the initiative to have some clothes sent up for you." A gesture draws my eye to another couch, where several articles of clothing are laid out artistically. "There are some unusual benefits to my new job," she smiles for real this time and I can't help the faint one that ghosts across my face in response.

 

She is an excellent judge of size and color, I muse to myself back in the bedroom, as I try on the simple sports bra and underwear, before pulling on the soft blue sundress that caught my eye and smoothing it over my curves. The color is perfect, just a few tones lighter than my eyes, the shades mottled like fog and water.

 

The murmur of voices draws me back to Dace, where an impeccably dressed hotel employee is setting out the last of a lavish, light meal. "Hungry?" She asks wryly and I am shocked to realize that I am starved. Chicken and asparagus with a lovely light ginger sauce, garlic mashed potatoes with crispy onions, a lemon soup with egg and tiny little pasta, and thinly sliced apples with plump grains in a rich cinnamon glaze soothe my hunger.

 

Neither of us speaks as we eat and some of my light headed, out-of-control feelings fade somewhat.

 

"She'll be happy to see you," is the opening salvo.

 

"You're not," I snap back, icy control firmly back in place. I will not like this woman! I will not! Dace's mirror-of-my-own eyes remain calm and nonjudgmental.

 

"I don't know you well enough to like you or not."

 

There is that.

 

"Michael visited me," my voice blurts out completely against my better judgment and Dace looks pleasantly surprised.

 

"Really," she drawls almost teasingly and I'm shocked to feel an answering jolt of embarrassment and something that just might be arousal. "Gave you a prod, did she?"

 

"Of a sort," I hedge.

 

"I'm glad. I hated the idea of never coming face to face with you." Once more, Dace slouches back in her chair, relaxed but utterly dangerous. It is like looking at the indolent zoo lions, appearing so harmless, yet knowing they can still be killers. "There are misconceptions and tangled emotions here," she says quietly in that same calm tone that both relaxes and grates. "You blame me for Olivia's moving. I blame you for her being lonely and not a little confused."

 

What the hell do I say to that?

 

"Olivia is a child of New York," Dace continues in the familiar tone of someone trying to get their thoughts in order. "But there's a downside to that. In a very real way, she was never allowed to just be herself. She was always just pieces of herself. Her mother's daughter, and constant reminder of the horror that begat her, child of an alcoholic, cop, protector, friend." Stunned at the words, I am riveted, and the images of my friend and crush in my mind's eye are vivid. "But she was never just… Olivia." Stricken at the image Dace is painting, I am nonetheless consumed with the revelations. "I really like Olivia. She's family to me now. And I really wanted her to get to be whatever she wants, not what's expected of her." The blue eyes turn thoughtful, casting down to her plate, before meeting my gaze again. "And that includes her attraction to you. Alex, I don't hate you or dislike you or any bullshit like that. I just hate seeing Liv suffer, but she's a big girl and she can handle it. I bolster her up as I can, as do our other packmates, and she's actually getting pretty good about leaning on us sometimes."

 

"So," I interrupt suddenly, voice cracking with strain, unable to stay silent for an instant longer, and Dace's head cocks curiously, like a dog's would. "You want to know my intentions?"

 

A faint smile and even fainter chuckle smoothes away some of our combined stress. "Only as a friend. I have no control over either of you, but I certainly have an emotional investment. Regardless, she's unavailable at the moment, off on some wild goose chase with Tessa. I would advise a nap if you can manage it. You look exhausted." Despite my stress and lingering control issues around this woman, I know that she is right. In truth, I am so tired that I am borderline delirious. "I'll wake you before she gets here, I promise," she assured me with grave seriousness.

 

And I believe her.

 

++ Olivia ++

 

My new life is always an adventure. This 'quick' trip out to Los Angeles with Tessa has actually been far more entertaining than I would have thought when I allowed myself to be talked into it. I got to wiggle my bare toes into Huntington Beach's sand while the Pacific said a wet hello, caught a show at the Pantages Theatre, took pictures at the Mann Chinese Hollywood Theater, and several other cliché things to do. Honestly, it was a ton of fun. Tessa's a great tour guide, in addition to breaking down even more of the few social barriers I still have left by being quietly persistent about not sleeping alone. Sure, all we did was cuddle, but still…

 

At the moment, my pal is warbling along with the radio, her faintly discordant voice oddly endearing, hair whipping in the wind, big, glamorous sunglasses making her good looks more like a Hollywood starlet's. My chuckle makes her look over quizzically, but I wave her off as my phone buzzes.

 

The caller ID shows a Vegas number. Interesting. Not a lot of people have my new number here. Well, not that I don't already have programmed into my phone, of course. Curiosity certainly has this cat by the short and curlies. Where the hell had I picked up that expression? God, I've been hanging around Dace too long already. "Benson," I bark into the device in my best businesslike tone "Talk to me." There is a long pause where I can hear breathing and the random sounds of a casino. "Hello?" The noises sound like any one of the casinos I've been in since arriving in Vegas, which pretty much kills any hopes of figuring out who this is. "Okay, if you're not gonna say anything, I'm done here."

 

"No, wait! Please!"

 

Stunned, I actually pull the phone away from my ear to stare at it for a moment. Then Tessa squeaks in fear and I jerk the car back into its lane. "Alex?" I breathe in disbelief. "Is that you?"

 

There is another long pause. Maybe I'd only imagined hearing her voice.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi yourself." Relief floods over me at the confirmation. Despite the onslaught of emotions from our parting, I just want to feel her next to me, know she's really here. "How are you? Where are you? Where have you been?" The questions flood past my lips; I am unable to stop the deluge. "Man, I have a million questions. Where are you? I'll come get you."

 

"Um… I'm at Caesar's Palace."

 

I smile, biting back an amused chuckle as I see the unexpectedly sweet sight of the Luxor Pyramid rise up out of the endless desert, with the rest of the Strip and city sprawled beyond. "You'll need to be a little more specific than that, honey," I reply calmly. "That's a pretty big casino."

 

"Oh, right. Sorry." She sounds almost like she's in shock. Then again, after what Elliot told me, I'm not really surprised. Hopefully, she'll be able to open up to me and talk about it. She never has done well with holding it in. "I'm out by the Garden of the Gods pools."

 

I grin broadly, gunning the engine a bit as I pull into the slow lane in preparation to exit. "Okay, you stay there. Have you eaten yet?"

 

"Awhile ago."

 

The vague answer says a lot about her state of mind. "Okay, honey, you've got a choice here. We can eat somewhere in the Palace or we can go somewhere else. But you need to eat. You're not used to this weather. Hell, I'm not used to this weather yet and I live here." Damn, Benson, ramble much? "Okay, I'm on my way over there. Meet me out front in about ten minutes; look for the beige Lexus convertible."

 

"Okay," she replies, her voice soft and kinda sweet, like when Lindsey is feeling shy.

 

"And, Alex? I'm glad you're here. See you in a few."

 

++ Alex ++

 

Nine days short of two months.

 

49 days, 2 hours, and 2250 miles.

 

I can't even begin to describe the butterflies doing kamikaze duty in my stomach at the prospect of finally seeing Olivia again. Too much time apart, too many miles, too much unspoken. That brief reunion when she came to pack didn't really count as time spent together, especially since I'd been such a bitch to her.

 

Yet… she sounds happy to hear from me.

 

I wander through the Palace for a few minutes, lost in thought, memories, dreams. Finally heading outside, I suck in a deep breath at the change in my usual surroundings. This is the first few days of April, for god's sake! It's supposed to be cold, crappy, and gloomy. Not bright, warm and dry, without a cloud in the sky. Shading my eyes against the glare of the late morning, I look for the car and wait, falling back into memories again.

 

A quick horn blast brings me back to the present and I blink against the glare off the champagne-colored car as it eases into the valet area. Then I see her. Dark hair has started to grow out a bit, sporting perfect streaks of sun-kissed color, and her skin, normally such a lovely shade of old ivory, is now a deeply bronzed tone. It looks magnificent on her, especially against that white short-sleeved shirt. So caught up in this vision of loveliness, I take only faint notice of the woman in the passenger seat, far too aware of the driver. Then Olivia tugs the dark sunglasses down her nose as the car comes to a halt and grins broadly as my feet automatically lead me closer to the expensive vehicle.

 

My name whispers over my ears as she is suddenly there and the feel of her strong body breaks loose the ice that has accumulated inside. Sobbing softly, I cling back, delirious with the press of her against me, her breath hot on my ear and neck. "Oh Alex. I've missed you."

 

In that moment, I know that I had been a fool to let her go.

 

In that moment, I know that only honesty and courage will win me a place by her side.

 

In that moment, I know that my life is about to change forever.

 

"I love you and I'm sorry I was so horrible and I can't live without you and I'm miserable and lonely and I don't care if I have to move to this awful place, I'll do it, because I can't…"

 

The burning wave of confession makes my eyes and throat and lungs ache, her finger on my mouth silencing me, but I can't see her through the scald of tears. The process of unraveling goes faster as her mouth presses sweet kisses to my eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead, and suddenly I am bawling like an infant, clinging to her as my exile ends.

 

++ Dace ++

 

Grinning at the happy reunion, I gesture Tessa over, roughly grabbing her neck to press her temple to the hard curve of my upper teeth. "Hello," I purr, making the taller woman shudder at the tone. "You've been missed. Let's see if we can get these two somewhere more private, hmm? Go get whatever needs to be retrieved from the car. I'll wait here."

 

"Yes Dace," she murmurs, the thrum of need thick in her tone. Poor thing isn't used to going celibate for as long as this latest trip has taken. Silent and watchful, I remain an observer to the reunion of my new best bud and the mercurial blonde that holds her heart captive. The valet hovers anxiously at the car until Tessa lets him do his job, returning to me with two rolling cases in hand and a laptop bag over her shoulder. After taking one of the handles, I go to the two New Yorkers, calling up my best 'cop-talking-to-scared-kid' persona.

 

"Come on guys, so that I can give you both some privacy."

 

None of us speak a word as we return to the suite, Alex still cuddled to Olivia's burlier frame, Tessa shaking beneath the hand I keep loosely wrapped around the back of her neck. Inside the suite, I share a loaded look with Olivia, grinning sweet understanding to her. With my bad hand, I gesture at myself, then the room I'd used earlier, then back to her and then to the room Alex has claimed.

 

With a shared smile of perfect understanding, we part ways for now. Our saying hello will have to wait. We both have women to take care of now.

 

Tessa is one of the nicer perks of taking over as the Lady's right hand, and I desperately need the distraction right now. Shoving the tall brunette into the room, I click it shut and cross my arms with my best 'Daddy' glare. "Well?"

 

Like the best of career Subs, she is halfway out of her clothes before the single syllable is out of my mouth. Good girl. In seconds, she is naked and on the floor in that excruciatingly difficult pose that Anastasia loves so. Slowly, I pace around her; tread light but deliberate, fingers tickling over the curve of her back. The sharp edge of fingernail over the orchid tattoo makes her shake like a leaf, a soundless moan conveyed expertly.

 

"So," I say in the silky voice of the torturer, the jailer, the brutal lover. "Your skin is unmarred and clear. What a shame." Crouching behind her, I trail those teasing fingers over her perfect ass, tracing outstanding bits of the fauna tattoos. "The best marks aren't even hidden by these." Tessa jumps and moans when I grab a good pinch of flesh and twist it brutally. Instantly, my touch is pure gentleness again. With my physical limitations, I've had to be even more clever with my sexual games and Tessa is a perfect canvas to perfect on before tackling the neophyte Sara. "Pretty garden," I coo playfully, alternating feather caresses and harsh rakes of nails or rough pinches. "So many secrets. Shall I look for them, hmmm?" Tessa squirms now, her breathing harsh. I can see that her pubes are glistening with sex juice, the inner lips unfurled in welcome. So I transfer the alternating caresses there, where she drips in readiness. "What's the matter, you slut? Three days of celibacy and I could bring the valet boy in here and you'd be on your knees, begging him to fuck you." There is a beat, one can never be sure how she'll respond to the empty taunt of bringing in a male to the play, but then I get a better idea, my voice even lower and more dangerous. "Or maybe Olivia?"

 

++ Tessa ++ 

 

Oh damn her for picking up on that particular little crush! My wet cunt actually convulses in response to the taunt, my whole body echoing like an earthquake. "Please," I whine breathily, groaning in pleasure at Dace's hard hand cracking across the wilderness of tattoos on my ass.

 

"You slut! All those nights sleeping beside her, not able to do anything, wanting her hand in your cunt, her mouth on your nipples, that nasty cop talk in your ears," she growls and I am dancing now, hips arching into her teasing touch, but freezing as she rests the weight of the removable cast on the small of my back. "You want it?" She taunts, rimming my hole. "You want it that bad? You better convince me, you disloyal brat, needy cunt, slutty whore."

 

Now, I really dance for it, hips pumping, shoulders arched, begging and moaning incoherently, "please, please, please." So, she eases a couple of fingers into the tight grip of my pussy, sawing the rough surface of the plastic brace and its nylon and Velcro straps over the shallow welts where she'd pinched and slapped me. The first orgasm is hard and quick, making my head spin, but she ignores me completely, as my voice goes tight and gasping, and adds a third finger to stretch my cunt and keep me flying. I babble incoherently my unexpected adoration for this unusual woman and how she seems to know exactly how to play me. When the second orgasm rumbles my guts, Dace adds that last finger, really stretching me, still growling encouragement, and rocks my clit with her thumb.

 

Eventually, my arms give out, dropping my forehead to the carpet, and she finally lets up, but keeps those talented fingers buried in my pussy for a long moment while I wheeze for breath. Gently, she leaves my heat, slender arms wrapping around me, sitting me up on my knees, until I am seated on her tight thighs, her torso supporting me, the material of her casual shirt and pants almost rough on my cum-sensitive skin. Wet fingers low on my belly, smoothing my pubes down, the brace a hard reminder across my ribs, she pets me gently for a long minute, nuzzling my hair. "Welcome home."

 

"I'll have to go away on business more often," I flirt coquettishly, returning the nuzzling as best I can in this position, making Dace chuckle throatily, and my hormones perk up again. "Thank you so much."

 

"My pleasure, Sunshine. You've been missed. Tired? Hungry?"

 

"Yes please."

 

Both of us, amused and affectionate, move to take care of other bodily needs. Teasing caresses, including a swipe through my still-wet pussy makes me moan. The welcome home isn't done yet!

 

To Be Continued…


	7. Oooo Las Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many threads of story come together for our characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R, for sobering themes.

++ Sara ++

 

(4-3-02)

 

The Ranch is starting to take shape.

 

Nearly two months of intensive planning from Monica, frazzling her badly, and another month of actual construction has the place livable and we've all started moving in. Catherine's house is sold and in escrow, changes of address have been sent to the post office and my apartment is nearly emptied.

 

God, I hope we all know what we we're doing.

 

All the chaos has let me ignore my own issues, as they circle my psyche like hungry sharks. Shoving the thoughts away, I concentrate once more on my surroundings.

 

Monica's unusual special unit needs a home, and she convinced the FBI to pay for it. Mulder played a part in that, it was obvious when he's visited several times. Here, the Sentinels will interact with the world on their own terms. Here is a safe haven.

 

The transfer of Alex Barnes is waiting for the completion of the underground facility and we are all very curious to meet this insane Sentinel. Perhaps learning from her will help all of our fears. Rubbing harshly at my eyes, I try once again to chase away the memory of Snake-Eyes trying to kill Dace. How much horror will I be forced to survive?

 

A nose at my ass makes me jump and chases away the morbid thoughts as I whirl around. "What the…!" Just as expected, there is Calamity, panting happily and looking all to pleased with herself. Chuckling, I mock-lunge at her, getting an excited bark and the play posture. Front legs and chest to the ground, butt waggling from her pinwheeling tail, the big dog is hysterical. No one can stay morbid with a happy dog around.

 

"Here," Lindsey calls out from where she skids around a nearby corner and tosses a tennis ball. Somehow, I dodge Calamity lunging for the ball, laughing as the clumsy goof skitters on the dusty ground. From shy big baby, to this playful, protective animal, Calamity Jane has come a long way since moving from Colorado. While Tessa and Olivia have been off in California, Lindsey and I have taken over the bulk of Calamity's care and interaction.

 

Laughing at the dog's antics as she barks and prances for the ball, I throw it with all my strength and she rips off like a greyhound after the yellow sphere. All of us wince as Olivia's Lexus screeches to a halt, making Calamity cry out in fear and cringe in the dust raised up.

 

Even as Lindsey and I rush over, the dust cloud clears, and there is my strong, blonde lover, hugging the frightened dog. "Goddess, but Art wasn't kidding. Calm down, you goofy idiot." Then, those icy blue eyes meet mine and I feel all those conflicting feelings that always accompany Dace in my life.

 

Calamity calms and goes willingly with Lindsey as Dace picks herself up from kneeling in the dirt and gives Olivia a long-suffering look that makes them both giggle naughtily. Still smiling, Dace saunters over to me, hands in her pockets and looking completely relaxed and casual. Something in me twists and spins like a pinwheel in the wind, my reactions to her seems to grow more powerful with time.

 

"Hi Sara." Just two tenderly spoken words nearly unravel my will to try and resist her.

 

Yet, after staring at her for a long moment…

 

I still walk away.

 

++ Olivia ++

 

Something is eating Sara alive. The stark, haunted agony in her eyes is painful to witness. Countless times I've seen that look in the eyes of victims. Something awful happened to that woman and Dace knows it as well as I do.

 

But Dace is playing it her way, giving Sara space and putting no pressure on that vulnerable soul. I'm not certain that I could be so patient if our positions were switched. That abruptly reminds me that I have someone else to attend to and I scramble back to the door. "Sorry, Alex," I apologize and pop the seat forward so that she can climb out of the tight backseat. "Drama at the Ranch. Come stretch your legs."

 

Wish a mocking sour look, a smile dancing in the corner of her mouth, Alex allows me to help her from the car as the dust settles. Dace is murmuring softly to Lindsey and Calamity, hugging them both. A touch on Alex's arm keeps us both quiet while my pal calms child and beast. Besides, now I have the chance to grab a bit more cuddle time. After all, at the hotel, we dozed and talked of mostly inconsequential things.

 

Dace's sudden groan and Lindsey's plaintive little voice calling my name springs me into action. With my help, Dace painfully regains her feet, face twisted with the pain that still wracks her. "Gently," I admonish, curtailing the urge to smack her upside the head for pushing to hard.

 

"Yeah," she agrees, but her mind is far away. Dwelling on a certain haunted brunette I'll bet.

 

"She'll come around, you'll see."

 

"Yeah," Dace agrees in a monotone, but gives my wrist a squeeze in thanks anyway. "I gotta go sit."

 

"Okay."

 

How I wish there was more I could do for these people! The need is sharp, but I swallow it down when I see Lindsey's sharp, curious gaze. The abrupt, mischievous grin startles me as the girl gestures back to the car. "You left your girlfriend hanging again."

 

"Lindsey!" I am aghast at the child's sass and she laughs in delight at my expression. Flouncing over to Alex, she offers a small hand.

 

"Hello, I'm Lindsey Willows, pleased to meet you."

 

++ Alex ++

 

Well, this little imp is quite the charmer! Grateful for the distraction, I take the little hand and give her a proper, polite shake. "Alex Cabot. I'd like to thank you for helping take care of Olivia while she's been here."

 

Somehow, it's the right thing to say and she beams winningly. "I like Olivia. I recognize your picture. You're the pretty lawyer from New York, the one that doesn't like Dace." While I feel put on the spot, Lindsey smiles prettily, but I see the mercenary gleam in her eye. "You'll come around. Everybody does." With a quick, evil grin, she turns to Olivia and addresses her matter-of-factly. "Monica has some paperwork for you when you get a minute. Pleased to meet you Alex!"

 

And with that, Lindsey Willows makes her grand exit, skipping off after Dace.

 

"Cheeky kid," Liv grumbles affectionately and I have to laugh.

 

"She's great. Is there some place we can get out of this heat?"

 

"Yeah, I have a bungalow over here."

 

The briefcase feels impossibly heavy where it rests against my ribs. How the hell am I supposed to bring up the file? How can I wreck the easy happiness in her eyes? But I have to let her make her own choices about the damned file.

 

There are five buildings around the dirt turnaround in various states of completeness. One large one is flanked by two smaller ones, the others still stick figures. "Damn asphalt layers were supposed to be here two days ago," Olivia mutters as we scuff through the dirt to the smaller building on the left. It's painted pale desert colors and has wide, deep overhangs to shade the walls. There are many windows and the front door is a rich shade of royal blue.

 

++ Olivia ++

 

I'm fumbling with my damn keys, flashing Alex a sheepish grin. "Don't know why I even bother to lock up. Habit I suppose." She gives me a sappy grin and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. Even this brief contact makes me flush with pleasure.

 

I've missed my bungalow and look around with contentment. My things look so different in this bright, serene space. Leaving Alex to look around, I head over to the kitchen, tossing my bags on the table to be dealt with later. There's actually more than just beer in the fridge and I make a mental note to thank Monica and Dana for their thoughtfulness.

 

"Something to drink?" I call out.

 

"Yes, that would be nice."

 

"Beer or soda?"

 

"Beer."

 

This trite conversation is driving me mad, but it's the best I can do until I can get us comfortably seated and we can get down to a serious talk. Something is bothering Alex, fighting with the shy pleasure of being here. I need to know what it is.

 

"So," I greet her and plop down on the big couch beside her. "Here we are. You like it?"

 

"It's actually very charming," Alex sounds a bit disbelieving and my expression makes her smile. "Oh, don't scowl. I wasn't expecting charm in the desert. It's a nice surprise." The briefcase she's been clutching pretty much since we have been reunited catches my attention once more.

 

"So what's in the bag?"

 

++ Alex ++

 

This is the Olivia I remember. Calm, implacable, but not threatening. She doesn't need to threaten me.

 

"Just nervous," I tell her sincerely and take a deep swig of the beer for false courage. "So, I screwed up and Liz threw me out on my ear."

 

"You got fired?" Olivia's disbelief actually makes me feel better.

 

"No, just put on suspension. I bent the rules too far this time, let vengeance blind me. I got the bastard, but the cost was too high." Swallowing the remembered pain of what I had done, I focus on the here and now. "Before I left, Liz asked me to do her a favor."

 

Trembling, I reach into the case, but pause with my hand on the crisp folder.

 

"I didn't want this errand, but she said I was the best one to do it." Once more I force myself to take a deep breath and pull out the folder. "She wanted me to give you this." Clueless, Olivia is merely curious, reaching for the folder, taken aback when I pull it to my chest. "It's a hit from the DNA backlogs."

 

++ Olivia ++

 

It takes a moment to sink in what she's getting at.

 

Then it hits like a thunderbolt.

 

That file… contains the information about the man that raped my mother.

 

My father.

 

I've always wondered. I know he must be swarthy, probably powerfully built, with large hands. All the things he passed to me.

 

Both of us are trembling now as the thin, crisp evidence folder moves slowly away from its protective cradle near Alex's body. It's light, oddly insubstantial in my hands as I stare at the plain beige surface. Somehow, I feel that it should weigh more, to give substance to the information within.

 

Alex does not speak, for which I am very grateful, but only scoots closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders to press her lips to my temple. I'm not doing this alone… and that realization brings me strength.

 

My hands tremble as the folder yawns open in my hands.

 

The very familiarity of the document within is somehow strengthening. He was in the system as a convict then. At some point he was caught doing something wrong and locked up. Before reading a word, my eyes zero in on the small photograph in the upper right hand corner and I cannot help but stare. It is the face of the monster who gave me life. It shocks me to my bones how much I look like him and the pages start to shake.

 

I'm almost surprised by how violently I toss the folder away from me, watching it settle to the wood floor.

 

Almost.

 

++ Dace ++

 

I can smell her agitation carried on the wind.

 

The steady crunch of her quick, heavy footfalls also caress my senses, confirming her scent.

 

This should be interesting.

 

"Heads up," I whisper to Catherine, who looks up from her book quizzically. A moment later, Olivia rounds the corner of the sprawling public porch, vibrating with stress. "S'up Dobie?" I ask casually, wanting to know exactly what her mood is. The silence lengthens as the dark woman stares at us with overly bright eyes, hands stuffed painfully deep in her pockets, body trembling.

 

Skittishly, Olivia steps closer and I keep my expression very carefully neutral and pray that no one comes out here and scares her off. The dark eyes blaze into mine, but I hold the gaze and search the torment within.

 

"DNA backlog," Liv grates out harshly and shakes her head as though to clear it. "Got a hit. Found my father."

 

Aw fuck… something tells me that this is not good news at all.

 

Abruptly, Liv starts to crumple, the tears hitching her breath and I snatch her strong body to be caught by my own. Brokenly, she sobs into my chest and I am humbled by her trust. "I look just like him!" She wails in agony. "The bastard! I look just like him…."

 

Sure, I don't have a damn clue what has upset her so much, but that is utterly beside the point. She needs me now and I will not deny that. The thick, dark hair is silky and warm against my scarred hand, while the stronger one rubs her back and arm. So the clues tell me that she's never known her deadbeat dad, but neither have I. Why is she so upset?

 

My hiss of pain is quiet as Liv's fists pull at my shirt, her knuckles digging into my chest. "Mom never knew the bastard that raped her…"

 

My wide-eyed look of horror is echoed on Catherine's stunned face.

 

"And now I do!"

 

++ Alex ++

 

It must be love, because my heart is breaking.

 

Poor Liv sounds like a wounded animal where she curls into Dace's slender body, seeking shelter. I am trapped here at the threshold of the sprawling porch, clueless at how to make myself a part of this. The pain of delivering the agonizing news has paralyzed me with guilt. My fingers are numb from my grip on the now disheveled folder.

 

A flicker of movement catches my eye, a small, intense woman with honey blonde hair rich with subtle red highlights. A gesture and the implacable demand of those sharp eyes draws me closer, until Dace can look up at me.

 

Part of me wants Olivia to need me like this… and part of me is terrified that I'm not strong enough for the role. But once again, my fears are moot as I find myself skirting the couch and draping my weight over Liv's back as though anchoring her.

 

Some nervous part of me is relieved that she does not flinch from my touch.

 

A long time passes while Liv shakes and sobs. It's as though the picture of the rapist who fathered her has broken loose a lifetime of pain. Which, I guess in a way, is the exact truth. When she does finally begin to calm, tension floods down her body and I'm surprised to feel Dace's hand on my head.

 

"Stay," the tall woman whispers in the most gentle tone. "You're safe here. We'll guard you. Rest now." With some squirming, where I see the devastated look on Liv's face, we all get more comfortable. This leaves Liv with her front pressed to the backrest of the couch and my lankier body along her back. Thank god this is an overstuffed couch and I might be able to prevent myself from sliding off. Both of us have our heads pillowed on Dace's thigh and I'm shocked by how lean the woman really is. She has such a big personality that one overlooks her damaged and thinned body.

 

It is the strangest intimacy I have ever shared with anybody, this dogpile of bodies. It gets even stranger when the small woman who has been keeping watch over us pulls over a chair to press it's arm right up against my backside and makes herself comfortable. It takes a moment to realize that she's given me a physical safety margin now that my hips will remain anchored to the couch. I can relax and focus on Liv now.

 

It's sobering to realize that there is no where else I'd rather be.

 

 

 

***[Author's note-- Ariestess wrote this separately from the larger story that wove around it. Of course, I wanted to honor this lovely bit and here it is woven in.

X. The Wheel of Fortune - Sara

reflecting on her life before and after Dace, particularly dealing with her past

Secondary inspiration from "Conversations With My 13 Year Old Self" by Pink]***

 

 

 

++ Sara ++

 

"Sara? You okay in there?"

 

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she'd be the one to come find me. After all, she's the one that has the most invested in me now. It doesn't mean that I necessarily want to see her right now, or anyone else for that matter. But at the same time, I suppose I owe it to her. Chewing at my lower lip, I get up from the couch in my little hideaway and move to the door. Briefly meeting her gaze, I motion for her to come inside. Once she's walked past me, with a light brush to my arm, I close the door again and lean against it. I watch her taking in the layout of this little apartment that's been set aside for my own benefit, and fight the urge to go curl up against her side and cling tightly.

 

"You've been awfully quiet the past couple days," she says softly, turning to study me for a long moment. "Is there anything I can help with?"

 

I shrug and chew at my lower lip again, debating just how much I should tell her, how much I should trust her. And then I remember this is the woman who very nearly got herself killed while playing a scene with me back in Chicago. She came back; hell, she moved here from San Francisco, totally uprooted her life to move to Vegas. Granted, that's because of Catherine, but there are times I like to think just a small bit of that decision was because of me.

 

"I don't know," I finally reply softly, knowing she'll hear me. "I'm just…"

 

"Come here, Sunshine," she murmurs and stretches her good arm out toward me. The damaged right arm is still curled up against her chest out of habit, even though it's been out of the cast for a couple of weeks already.

 

Without hesitation this time, I push off from the door and curl up against her left side, careful of the still-weak right arm. Nuzzling against the side of her neck, I feel my breath hitch with the emotions she always brings out in me, even when we're not playing. Her hand soothingly strokes up and down the length of my back, her cheek rubbing against the top of my head. The tenderness is enough to break down the walls I've been trying to erect in my solitude, and I can feel the tears welling in my eyes.

 

"I'm sorry, Dace," I whisper as she guides me to the couch. Once I know she's comfortable, I curl against her side again, head resting on her shoulder.

 

"For what? Needing a little time to yourself? There's nothing wrong with that, Sara. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all."

 

I nod and wipe at my cheeks. "I just feel…off, I guess. It tends to happen this time of year, whether I like it or not."

 

"What happens this time of year, Sara?"

 

"And you've been kind of grumpy and distant since your cast came off," I continue, as if she hasn't asked the question. "I know your arm's been sore and that's probably part of it, but I just worried that maybe you were just getting sick of me."

 

"That's enough, Sara," Dace replies forcefully, using her right hand to clumsily grip my chin, which forces me to meet her concerned gaze. Her wince of pain reminds me this injury still hurts her. "I'm not getting sick of you, okay? And if there was an issue like that, I'd sit down and discuss it with you. Regardless of what other people have done to you, I'm not going to just use you and throw you away like Kleenex. I have far too much respect for you, as a lover and as a person. So please don't think my own issues with what I can and can't do now have anything to do with what I feel for or think of you, okay?" I nod slowly and let out a sigh. "So you wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

 

Licking my lips against a suddenly dry mouth, I swallow and nod again. "This is just really hard for me to talk about, Dace, but I owe it to you to be honest about it. It's a pretty big part of the person I've become, and if I'm gonna trust you with my life, I should be trusting you with all of it, no matter what. Right?"

 

"Like I've said before, I do expect complete honesty. I know there's something you've been keeping from me, and I've hoped you'd feel comfortable enough to share it with me. But, Sara, whatever it is, it's not going to change how I feel about you."

 

Taking a deep breath, I try a tentative smile, heart hammering in my chest at both her words and what I'm about to tell her. You can do this, Sara, you're not that person anymore. "When I was twelve… No, best to start at the beginning, I suppose. I grew up in a pretty abusive home. My parents didn't want me, and to be honest they shouldn't have had me. My mom and dad both beat me; my father beat my mother. Bruises, broken bones, and trips to various emergency rooms were the norm during my childhood. As far as I was concerned, it was the way everyone grew up, but it wasn't what I wanted. School was an escape for me, a chance to get away from home. And when I was home, I'd hide in my room with my books and homework; I used it as my coping mechanism. Of course, it didn't make me a lot of friends in school, not that I could bring anyone home anyway, and I wasn't allowed to go to anyone else's house either."

 

Unable to remain still, I pull away from Dace and start to pace. I need the physical activity to keep me from pulling inward completely, even though I know Dace will do what she can to help make me feel safe in all of this. But I don't feel safe when I talk about it, think about it, remember any of it. I can feel her eyes following my every move, know her Sentinel senses are telling her about my physical discomfort at retelling this story. And yet, she doesn't say anything, and somehow I know she won't say anything until I'm finished.

 

"Everything changed one night the year I turned twelve. They were eating dinner. I was being punished for something or other. I think I'd been kept after school by my teacher to discuss the possibility of getting into an after school gifted kids program. Mom didn't like that I was coming home late, because it meant she had to cook dinner. So I'd been beaten for being late without permission, and for lying about the reason I was late. Didn't matter that I was telling the truth, my father said I was worthless and stupid, and that's all there was to it. So I had to cook dinner, then watch them eat it. Afterward, I did the dishes and went to do my homework. My father came in to tell me once again how stupid I was and how I'd never amount to anything. It sparked off another beating, on top of the one I'd gotten earlier from my mother. The next thing I knew, my mother was standing behind my father, just stabbing him in the back repeatedly while laughing and telling me it was all my fault she was having to kill my father. She said he spent far too much time beating me and that I was next. With each stab of the knife, her voice grew louder and shriller, until she was practically screeching at the top of her lungs how she was doing this for us, for me, that it was all my fault she had to kill my father.

 

"Someone must have heard her because the next thing I knew, the cops were breaking down the door. All I can remember after that is the stench of the blood, the feel of it on my face and my clothes, the maniacal look in her eyes when they handcuffed her and took her away, and the female officer who took me to Child Protective Services. I didn't even get to take any of my books, or clothes, or anything. Since we didn't have any other family, I was put into foster care. I got bounced around a lot in foster care; nobody wanted to deal with the crazy girl whose mother killed her father. The officer promised me no one would know, but they all did; they always knew and made sure I knew that they knew. I dug further into my studies and pretty much pushed away everything and everyone else that tried to get close. And I had good enough grades to get into Harvard, and I got the fuck out of there."

 

"And yet you moved back to San Francisco to work as a CSI?" Her words are so soft, so curious. I blink in surprise at her tone, only belatedly realizing there are tears streaming down my cheeks. "Why?"

 

"I wanted to make sure no other little girls had to go through what I did," I whisper.

 

"Oh, Sara," she murmurs in a pained voice. Before I realize it's happening, she's at my side, wrapping both arms around me and holding me close. I can hear her soft grunt of pain and try to pull away. "Don't, Sunshine, it's okay. You're more important than my stiff fucking wrist."

 

"Am I?" I ask, unable to stop myself from saying the words in the first place. I already know her answer, and stiffen against it.

 

Once again that sore arm comes up and she grips my chin, forcing me to look at her. I blink at the sight of tears in her eyes. "Yes, Sara Sidle, you are more important than my wrist, and don't you ever forget it. Do you understand me?"

 

"Yes, ma'am," I murmur, eyes closing against the sudden tightness in my chest. She pulls me close again, just holding me and whispering soothing nonsense as I cry.

 

Some time later, I feel her guiding me to the couch again, and settling a blanket over me. I curl up in the corner, arms wrapped around my pulled up legs, and just rest my forehead on my knees. I can hear her puttering around in the little kitchenette, but can't bring myself to expend the strength to look up and see what she's doing. I simply concentrate on trying to calm down, and Dace's words of reassurance keep running through my mind. It still surprises me that she cares so much about me, I still have that fear that I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream.

 

"No dream, Sunshine," she murmurs, handing me a steaming mug. "Now, drink this and let me talk for a little bit, okay?" When I nod, slowly sipping at the hot chamomile tea, she smiles and strokes my cheek. "That was a very brave thing you did, Sara. You didn't have to tell me about that part of your past, and I'm honored that you trust me enough to share it. I gather that Catherine doesn't know this information, or she'd have at least found a way to warn me of its existence. And I guess I lied, because hearing your story did change my opinion of you." She must see some evidence of my heart sinking at her words, and she reaches up to cup my cheek. "I'm even more in awe of you now than I was before. I knew there was something lurking in your past that made you so skittish around other people, I even suspected some sort of abuse. But I certainly didn't suspect this, and I'm proud of the woman you've become. It makes total sense to me now about your reactions to certain cases you're assigned." She pauses a moment, and I can see she's working something over in her mind.

 

"Whatever it is, you can ask me, Dace," I finally say.

 

"Have you considered talking to someone about this? I mean, I'm guessing not a lot of people know about your past. But I'm also guessing you're actually feeling much better for having shared this, right?" When I nod, she smiles compassionately. "Good, I'm glad. And I'll bet that anniversary is coming up pretty soon, isn't it?"

 

I nod slowly, trying to breathe normally against that fear that always comes up so hard when I think about that night almost twenty years ago. "It's why I had to get away and be by myself."

 

"I can understand that," she replies. "You didn't want to share something you found shameful about your past, didn't want to be seen as weak or weird, yes?" I nod again, eyes closing against a fresh round of tears. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore, Sara. Even if you never tell Catherine or anyone else about it, I'll know and I won't let you do this by yourself anymore. You're a good person, Sara, and you deserve any happiness that comes your way."

 

I drain the last of my tea and force myself to get up and set the cup on the counter. I take a few seconds to splash some cold water on my face before heading back to the couch. Dace stops me and holds out her hand to pull me close. Without a word, she presses a gentle kiss to my lips and guides me into the bedroom. I hesitate slightly, not sure sex is what I need at this point.

 

"Just sleep, Sara," she gently reassures me. "You look like you're about ready to keel over from exhaustion."

 

"Stay with me?" I ask in a tiny voice, still half-expecting her to drop the other shoe, so to speak, and tell me she never wants to see me again.

 

"I wasn't planning to leave unless you asked me to," is her response as I slip under the covers. "I just need to let Catherine know I'll be here. Will you be okay for a couple minutes while I go call her from the other room?"

 

I nod and lean into the kiss she plants on my forehead, watching her walk out into the other room. Part of me wishes I had her hearing, just to know what she's saying to Catherine. But then I remember that this is Dace and she's not one to tell other people's secrets without their permission. And then I remember what she said about talking to someone. I haven't given therapy of any kind a serious thought because of the bogus crap I went through while in foster care. But maybe Dace is right, maybe it's time to do what I can to put this particular demon to rest.

 

She comes back into the room with a bright smile for me, and shucks off all of her clothes, save the boxers and the wife beater, before crawling into bed with me. "Catherine said she's got a pair of really good ears if you need someone to listen," she says softly as she pulls me next to her. "She's worried about you, but she trusts that you'll do what you need to, and that you'll ask for help if you need it."

 

I settle myself along her body, ear pressed against her chest so the sound of her heartbeat soothes me. "I will. And I think I might give your idea of therapy a shot. Maybe there's someone out there who can help me without judging me." The last words are mouthed around an ear-popping yawn, and I can't help the girlish giggle at Dace's knowing chuckle.

 

"I'm sure there is, but for right now all that matters is that you get your rest. We can talk about finding you someone to talk to tomorrow, or whenever you're ready for it. And just remember, Sara, I'm so very proud of you for being a survivor."

 

"Thank you, Dace," I murmur around another yawn, and nuzzle in closer as my eyes close.

 

(04-04-02)

 

I wake up early the next afternoon, feeling more refreshed than I have in a long, long time. Dace is casually playing with my hair, and greets me with a gentle good morning kiss. We lay in bed for a while longer, just lazily talking and getting reacquainted again now that the cast is off and she's using her hand more. Eventually, we share a nice, but cramped shower before heading into the city for a meeting Dace has. Catherine even gives me a warm hug before we leave, which nearly brings tears to my eyes again. I'm feeling very raw, but very much on the road to being at peace.

 

While Dace takes care of her meeting, I head up to say hello to Tessa. I casually glance at Anastasia's door, and Tessa smiles. "She doesn't have anyone in her office at the moment, if you'd like to go say hello."

 

I smile my thanks and enter the office after my knock is acknowledged. Anastasia come around her desk to wrap me in a warm hug upon seeing me. I return the embrace gratefully and let her lead me to the couch. "It's good to see you, Sara dear. Did you come in with Dace?"

 

"Yes, I did," I reply and I suddenly feel nervous again. It's such a very big step I'm going to take. But I know I've got people to support me along the way. "Anastasia, ma'am, I'm in need of your assistance. I find myself needing to speak with someone professionally, someone who is qualified to help me work through a few things. I trust your judgment, and I was wondering if you have anyone you might be able to suggest?"

 

Her expression is that combination of pride, affection, and concern that I've seen other mothers have for their children. Just her expression makes me feel better, and I do my damnedest to fight off yet more tears. I don't think I've cried this much in a long, long time.

 

"I can think of at least three people who would be willing to help you with whatever you need," she replies with a smile. "And these people aren't easily fazed by anything. Would you prefer a man or a woman?"

 

I blink at the question, startled to even be asked such a thing. "I'm not sure," I reply slowly. "I hadn't thought about it."

 

She pats my hand and strokes my cheek. "Then I'll make sure to find people I personally would trust to speak with, and you make your own decision. But I can do that before you leave. For now, we can just chat while Dace has her meeting. Will that be all right, dear?"

 

"Yes, ma'am," I reply out of habit. "I think I'd like that. Thank you."

 

"My pleasure, my dear."

 

 

 

***[Author's note-- End of Wheel of Fortune]***

 

 

 

++ Anastasia ++

 

Truthfully, I'm proud of this wounded child. The ever present shadows in her eyes are stirred up, but somehow lighter as well. As I really like this girl, I am very gratified to see the spark of what I suspect is the real her shining in the earthy fields of her eyes.

 

"Would you like some more of my stash?" The mischievousness of my question makes her grin helplessly and I chuckle.

 

"Oh, yes please."

 

The apple juice stores are getting low! But Dace and Sara take such pleasure in the stuff that I don't mind. I will need to put in a call to Sylvia to see if she can't wheedle me some more from her Washington contact.

 

"Something awful happened with Olivia yesterday," Sara suddenly muses out of nowhere and I take my seat. "I think it may have helped trigger me off." I quick, shy grin reassures me. "Not that I think it's a bad thing. Dace has been really good about getting me to open up."

 

I'll refrain from teasing her about how what that sounds like. This time.

 

"Maybe Olivia will go with me," Sara muses further, but now I think that she's talking more to herself than me.

 

"The buddy system is always a winner," I agree calmly, not wanting to scare her back into her shell. The look of determination that alters her face makes me hide a smile behind my glass. That's the fire I wanted in this scarred child. With her stubbornness aimed at healing instead of self-castigation, she will find herself in much better sorts. And not let Olivia wiggle her way out of it, either.

 

Their prospects should be very good, indeed.

 

++ Dace ++

 

With just twenty minutes in Anastasia's care, Sara looks determined and fired up. The boss and I share a significant, understanding look as I collect my pet and I feel better than I have in two days. These stressful situations are reminding me just how sucky my energy levels are and it's irritating. While not exactly a jock, I've always been physically capable.

 

As I walk beside a quiet Sara, I flex my aching hand, hyper aware of every muscle fiber, tight tendon and cushioning layer of cartilage. It's still an engrossing sensation, so much so that I walk right into Sara as she pauses.

 

"Sorry," I mumble as she turns and flicks those fathomless, intelligent eyes from my face to my hand. It's a pleasant shock when she reaches up to gently cover my fingers with her own.

 

"Still feels weird, huh?"

 

Then something occurs to me, like a bolt from the blue.

 

I don't clearly remember the night when Snake-Eyes came from the sky and changed all of our lives. Caught up in the animalism of Sara's soft, willing body beneath me, safe in the knowledge that Catherine watched over us, my senses were over-focused and I barely remember even reacting.

 

But Sara remembers everything.

 

She squeaks in surprise as I sweep her into a suffocating hug, stunned that I have been such a dense bastard. "Oh Sar…"

 

"What is it?" She whispers into my ear and I can only shake my head helplessly.

 

All the blood, the roar of gunfire that some part of my brain remembers, the sickening crunch of bone… Sara was the closest witness to it all. Trapped beneath me as I nearly bled out.

 

"Oh god, Sara…"

 

++ Sara ++

 

She's so upset. And it came out of nowhere. Confused, but more than willing to return her earlier patience, I cling to this dear woman and wait her out. She allows me to tug her off to the side of the hallway, which is thankfully deserted. There are no tears, but her grip is strong, her body trembling.

 

In time, a great shuddering sigh signals Dace's grip slackening slightly and she sways on her feet. "I think," her voice cracks alarmingly. "That we need to talk about what happened that night."

 

It's not what I might have expected and my mind is immediately awash in the horror of Snake-Eyes' attack. Even now, months later, the violence is fresh in my mind. No wonder I've been such a mess! Too much brutality and pain…

 

This time, the hug is mutual and we give strength to one another. After some time, I nuzzle into Dace's soft hair and sigh across her ear. "Would you join me for dinner?" I breathe so very quietly. "I'm hungry and we could use the quiet time."

 

"Yeah," Dace sounds bewildered and I know that she's right, this talk is long overdue. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

 

Threading my right arm through Dace's solid left, I lead the way out of the building and out to the car. Neither of us speaks as I weave through town to a favorite greasy spoon where I have spent many a morning eating breakfast with my team after shift. Right now the comfort food and atmosphere are appreciated. Both of us are quiet as we order and wait for savory things to be cooked and brought to us. It's all good, the taste chasing away the nausea and the lingering flavor of Dace's blood in my memories.

 

"It's very clear in my mind," says my voice, seemingly with little input from my upper brain. "Snake-Eyes coming down from the lights with that damn table leg in his hands, the sounds and smells and tastes." Sighing in resignation to the memories of Dace's near-death layered over the memories of watching my mother stab my father to death, I look at the haunted blue eyes I adore. "But I think that it's finally started to sink in that you're okay."

 

++ Dace ++

 

God she awes me. With her heart in her eyes, but her voice calm, this extraordinary woman reassures us both. Then that sweet, teasing smile warms her face and brings that enticing twinkle to earth dark eyes. Gesturing at the space between us with her fork, she tells me quietly, "stuff like this helps."

 

"Omelets?" I say stupidly, not catching her meaning.

 

To my delight, Sara laughs openly, a warm sound that makes me smile helplessly. "Silly," she admonishes me affectionately. "This kind of normal stuff. Like eating breakfast for dinner with you." the twinkle goes mischievous and I fall just that little bit deeper in love with her. "Too bad Catherine's not here."

 

Now we both laugh and the mood of the meal has turned to pleasant things. Hand in hand we return to the car and head home. I know that Catherine has work tonight, but I think we might be able to catch her for a couple of hours before letting her go. The setting sun paints the desert dusty colors as Sara expertly steers the car to the Ranch, where we find Lindsey alone on the couch watching TV. "Dace! Sara!" She squeals and attacks us with powerful hugs.

 

"Hey Munchkin, how are you?"

 

"Worried," she tells me with that customary Willows honesty. "Me and mom both. She's sleeping 'cause she hardly slept today. Will you go make her feel better? I'll be okay now that you're back here."

 

Well that's good enough for me and Sara and me ensure that the girl is indeed ready for a night on her own before going in search of her lovely mother. In the darkness of the master bedroom we both strip in silence, seeming to share a single, focused intent.

 

Moaning softly, Catherine responds only slightly to our gentle and amorous intentions, fingers and lips caressing over her warm skin. It doesn't last long with both of us so intent on her, the small noises growing focused, her hands grasping even as she wakes fully, murmuring my name, then Sara's.

 

This is my heart and my home. These women to love and to love me back, the sensuality of their touches, the normalcy of our day to day lives, that child that needs us as her grown-ups. This is my life now and even with the pain and uncertainty, this is the life I would not trade for anything.


End file.
